Delusions of Grandeur
by Follow-ur-Shadow
Summary: When Donna is presented with an exciting new opportunity, Harvey has to decide whether to let her go or fight. A situation made more complicated by the return of Stephen Huntley and Harvey's own latest distraction.
1. Chapter 1

**Delusions of Grandeur**

**Category:** Drama, Action, Angst, Thomas/Donna, Harvey/OC, Darvey.

**Summary:** When Donna is presented with an exciting new opportunity, Harvey has to decide whether to let her go or fight. A situation made more complicated by the return of Stephen Huntley and Harvey's own latest distraction.

**AN: **What can I say? This idea got stuck in my head and now I'm invested in another multi-chap fic :D Set in season 8 but it doesn't follow any particular timeline except that Donna is dating Thomas. Thank you so much to Southsidesister (Darvey_love) for the help and encouragement!

* * *

1.

Harvey's lips curve around the glass in his hand, the unique notes of sandalwood and honey starting to blur after a few too many but the Whiskey's doing what it's supposed to- filling the ache of loneliness that's taken up residence since neither Donna or Mike bothered to return his calls. A few years ago the ex-communication would've been unheard of, both employees at his beck and call, but neither work for him anymore and those days are long behind them. Donna may technically still be under his payroll but it's different. He lost the right to intrude on her life at all hours when she'd moved to Louis' desk and more recently when he'd forced the line after her lips had sought out his, testing the relationship he'd been in and subsequently ending it as a result.

He can still taste the sweetness of strawberries in Donna's kiss, no amount of alcohol able to wash it away, and something akin to regret cramps in his chest.

He misses her.

They've found their footing but the scattered hours they spend drinking or sharing a meal aren't enough. Her company is becoming an addiction, the high fleeting and dumping him in the recesses of darkness when she leaves. He wants more and knows that makes him the biggest, prized asshole because instead of facing up to his feelings, he's here now, at some seedy dive bar, barely paying attention to the blonde saddled up beside him.

Catherine, Clara... something like that.

Donna would have a field day.

Lucky for him the woman seems content with letting her words flow so all he has to do is nod and smile where appropriate. He isn't proud of himself but also can't find the motivation to steer her away, the only other thing waiting for him tonight an empty apartment reflecting his poor choices.

The blonde pauses momentarily, excusing herself to go to the bathroom, and he sinks further into his self-loathing but gains the benefit of foresight which encourages him to leave before things go any further with the attractive, affluent heiress. He's not a thirty-something bachelor anymore. He's trying to bury his emotions in a time that no longer exists but the rationality becomes clouded by fear as the minutes roll by. He doesn't want to be alone tonight and before he can reason the argument back the other way, long slender fingers wrap around his wrist removing the glass from his hand.

He shifts his attention toward her, drawn in by piercing green eyes that are seductive in their demand and he swallows thickly as she guides his palm to the edge of her dress, the silk warm and welcoming beneath the light brush of his thumb.

He shouldn't.

He's far too drunk, the contact bringing forward flashes of fiery red hair and long cream legs wrapped tightly around his waist. It makes him recoil, realizing anything that happens tonight is just going to be a projection of his fantasies but when she leans forward demandingly, whispering seductively into his ear, incoherent thoughts drive the uncomfortable strain inside his trousers. He needs to feel something other than the unrelenting pelt of a cold shower and he surrenders himself to her gentle tug rising to follow the sway of her hips out into the cool night air.

It does nothing to sober him and the cab ride is quiet, building a steady rise of tension that needs releasing. He forces himself to stop thinking about Donna as they navigate the busy streets, long enough so he can control the hum vibrating through his body.

It isn't fair, he knows that, but is far too gone to read into it or even consider appeasing the moral objections that sound in the back of his head. There's an easy uncomplicated answer right in front of him and he follows the blonde's cue, paying the driver and stepping out to get the door for her.

Small fingers lace with his, the warmth guiding him up to a lavishly overdecorated space that's adorned with a hideous chandelier but he isn't here to admire the decor and judging by her feverish hands a tour isn't on the agenda.

He doesn't complain, his back hitting the surface of the nearest wall as her mouth opens across his and he's lazy with any attempt to help remove their clothing. Fortunately she seems to like being in control and he submits to her enthusiasm, his body on auto-pilot as she grinds against him, maneuvering them in the direction of her bedroom.

His thighs collide with a large four-poster frame and her weight is enough to push him over, her fingers deftly working to remove the last of the fabric between them which she achieves with no resistance. He's compliant and even entertains the idea of being completely selfish as she sinks on top of him but instinct takes over, clumsy fingers aiding her in finding a release.

He chases his own with visions of strawberries and whipped cream, a night that has been seared into his memory and never fails to bring about his own climax. He can picture it vividly- the plea on Donna's lips as his tongue lapped her up and the following contraction of her thighs, the haunting sound of pleasure echoing in mind and making him bite down hard on his lip to stop from breathing out her name.

He feels a spasm around his desire, finding the motivation to flip the blonde on top of him and withdraw because even though they're having sex there's something too intimate about spilling inside her. He empties himself on her stomach instead, collapsing on his back with shaking arms and he tries not to flinch as her nails drag over his chest.

She makes light of needing a shower, asking if he'd like to join, but he doesn't have it within him to go again and thanks every deity under the sun when his phone vibrates, the sound reaching them from somewhere inside her apartment. He lies without hesitation, claiming it could be important given the nature of his job and lifts himself from the mattress going in search of his jacket.

It nothing urgent, Mike promising he'll call at a more reasonable time but he takes advantage of the excuse striding back into the room, not deterred by his state of undress as he explains it's an emergency and that he needs to go deal with it. She seems disappointed but accepts he has to leave and in less than twenty minutes he's stood fully clothed on the sidewalk, in the freezing cold, too drunk to walk but sober enough to feel regret churn in his stomach as he hails a cab.

.

* * *

.

He arrives at work the next day still smelling of stale scotch, the alcohol sweating from his pores and he flinches when Donna steps out of the elevator across from him. She eyes him up and down with an all-knowing look because he might seem respectable to the rest of the world but she isn't most people. She's always been able to see straight through him and when she extends her coffee without question he accepts it.

"Thanks."

"Rough night?" She queries falling into step beside him, feeling guilty for having missed his call. She'd been wrapped up with Thomas and hadn't listened to her messages until this morning but he'd clearly taken it upon himself to go drinking without her.

"Had better." He admits, growing hesitant and wondering how candid he should be with revealing the truth. If she hasn't already guessed he'd rather not skirt any closer to his inappropriate actions, especially given the nature of the thoughts that had been driving his behavior. He just wants to forget it happened and clears his throat, quickly changing the subject before she has time to speculate. "You?"

"I was... it was good." The slip is half intentional but her cheeks flush as she diverts last minute, deciding to keep her activities private in light of his current state. She's been meaning to tell him about Thomas, the CEO who just happens to be one of Louis' oldest clients and more specifically the man she's dating. The confession has been on the tip of her tongue but the right words always allude her, like cotton in her mouth whenever they surface, and she stalls outside her office swallowing them down in favor of doing what she can to avoid any awkwardness. "If you need a hand with anything let me know."

She doesn't quite meet his gaze and any other day he might read into it but the pounding in his head steers him away from asking questions. The only thing he needs is the caffeine she's willingly sacrificed and he tilts the cup in a gesture of gratitude.

Her mouth curves in response but it's forced and guilt crawls beneath her skin as she pushes on the glass, the usually safe space leaving her feeling open and exposed. She's not technically lying but in the world of Harvey Specter keeping something from him means the same thing and she opens up her laptop, overcompensating by doing all she can to rearrange his calendar.

"Donna, do you have the-"

"Corner of the desk, Louis." Her smile is more relaxed as she acknowledges the intrusion pointing to the document he's panicking about. "I emailed a draft copy down to finance yesterday so they should have it proofed and back in the next hour."

Louis' shoulders sag with relief and he steals a moment to collect himself, eternally blessed because no matter what the situation Donna's always one step ahead no matter who she's working for. "You're a goddamn life saver."

She assumes he doesn't mean the hard candy kind and shrugs casually, "not to the Darryl... but the people in Operations _love_ me." She beams up at him appreciating the compliment but her gaze dips back to Harvey's schedule mentally focused on what she can do to help him out today. "Are you still on with Kathy Delaine at 4pm?"

"Just canceled. Woman's a jerk with a diamond sized chip on her shoulder, _why_?" He reels off the insult, watching her eyes narrow at the flickering screen.

"Harvey's got a call with one of Katrina's clients, think you could take it?"

"Consider it done." In the past it would have fallen to him by default anyway but since taking on the role of Managing Partner he's had to scale back his other duties- something Donna has guided him through every step of the way. If it weren't for her he wouldn't even have the title and he's more than willing to return a favor in any capacity he can. "Need me to tell him?"

She shakes her head wanting to deliver the out herself. Harvey _should_ see it as a good thing but she doesn't want Louis wearing the brunt of any frustration if she's wrong. "I'll do it."

"Sure." He nods, a little confused by her forced smile but sensing it's not something he wants to get in the middle of. Donna had told him about Thomas a few days ago and his gut reaction had been one of happiness. Knowing them both as he does, it seems like a perfect fit but realizing he'd found out before Harvey had left a pang of unease rolling around his stomach that he hasn't been able to shake.

"Have you..."

"Not yet." She anticipates what Louis is about to ask and understands it's awkward for him. Thomas is his client and Harvey is his friend but she's going to make it right, she just has to work up the nerve first. "I will, today. I promise."

He relaxes again fully understanding why she's hesitant. Telling Harvey means it's getting serious and while he's sure that's a great thing for Donna, he's not so sure it's a good thing for NYC's best closer. The man has been out of sorts lately but if Harvey can't see Donna is the best thing that's ever happened to him then it's not his place to judge- out-loud anyway.

"You have Katrina's notes?"

"I'll send them through." She curves her lips, grateful for his tact and more importantly the leniency he's bestowing on the situation. It means a lot and she's completely sincere with showing him how much it means. "Thank you, Louis."

He leaves with a nod, returning the sentiment, and she sinks back into her chair with a sigh.

Maybe he's right- it's better to bite the bullet.

After all, it's not like Harvey has any real reason to be bothered. Thomas is a great guy. He's kind, smart, funny and loyal. It's not like when she was dating Stephen Huntley, a now convicted felon, and Harvey had barely battered an eye-lid when she was seeing Mitchell. The only real point he can object too is that Kessler has been a long-serving client of the firm but she's sure he'll respect that she and Thomas are adults, and the resolve urges her toward Harvey's office.

The state he's in hasn't changed and she does him the courtesy of knocking, even though she moves straight to the seat opposite his desk.

He glances up briefly, not annoyed but distracted, and she crosses her legs folding her hands over knees with a small smile as she delivers the speech she'd prepared n the few small steps leading her here. "Louis had some free time this afternoon so he's going to take Katrina's meeting. You also have a light day on Thursday and could reschedule lunch with Zach Bryner, but I wanted to check before I moved anything."

He raises his head more prominently because it's bullshit. She never runs anything by him first, she just does it, and while he appreciates the effort she's always gone too- he doesn't if it comes with an ulterior motive. "Donna, I don't need a babysitter."

"Since when?" She teases lightly, prompting an eye-roll followed by a huff. He might not want her help but he needs it and she tilts her gaze with a pointed look. "If you think you can handle a Gallagher's Steakhouse special today, then by all means..."

She shrugs her hands and his stomach turns at just the mention of food, conceding to the suggestion because she's right- as always.

"Fine, reschedule."

Luckily gloating isn't her thing but he feigns disinterest in carrying on the conversation as he reaches for more caffeine. The last thing he needs right now is her sympathy and he knows it's a dick move but he returns his attention to the work in front of him using it is as a silent dismissal.

It's a cue for her to leave but she doesn't, twisting her fingers together as a softer note hugs her voice. "I'm sorry I missed your call last night." She dives, _almost_, straight in but his reaction is barely a flicker and she sighs, the urge to come clean propelling her courage, "the truth is I've been seeing someone... Thomas Kessler. Louis knows but I haven't told you yet _because_-"

"Donna, it's fine."

It isn't.

His chest clamps around the admission she's been seeing someone, squeezing out sparks of betrayal but he needs her to stop talking, give him a moment to squash down the panic that's rising. In the vast scheme of things maybe it doesn't matter that Louis found out before him. It's not like hearing it first would've softened the blow and he breathes in a ragged breath, his lips numb and they dig into a forced smile. "I'm happy for you."

There's a beat between them, a pause where his mouth twitches ever-so-slightly and she swallows. "You sure?"

He nods curtly, the tension in his upper body sagging as his fingers drum the edge of the desk and she has no reason to assume he's lying. He'd been clear about resisting anything that might have surfaced after their kiss, romantic or otherwise, so she'd made it easy for him. She'd owned up to the mistake and buried any hope of more developing between them. Sitting opposite him now, with the weight of her feelings pushed beyond reach, she knows it was the right thing to do. She wants them both to be able to move on and smiles gently, "thank you, Harvey."

The gratitude stabs through him and he reaches for his pen trying to channel the anxiety coursing through him. "I know Thomas, he's a good man."

'Know' is a stretch but Louis has always spoken highly of the CEO and even though it hurts, more than he ever assumed possible, it's what she deserves. Someone stable who will treat her right and he blinks bringing his swimming vision back into focus, trying to think of something else to say when his phone starts vibrating across the desk.

Donna's eyes flash to Sean Cahill's name lighting up the screen and she glances at Harvey with a frown. "That can't be anything good."

No shit, he thinks, almost welcoming the escape but refuting it as he clears his throat wondering how the morning could _possibly_ get any worse. "Sean, this had better _not_-" he stops, the man's terse interruption cutting him off and the mention of Stephen Huntley drives Harvey's palm against his forehead. Donna mouths a confused 'what' but he shakes his head trying to focus on the details Sean's relaying over the call, his stomach churning with every piece of information that's being delivered.

Fucking _great_. Not only does he have to deal with Donna's current boyfriend the universe is throwing her goddamn ex into the mix and he retaliates angrily against the conspiracy, "this had better be some kind of _fucking_ joke."

It's not.

That much becomes clear when the phone flies down a moment later, bouncing across the desk and Donna startles at the reaction reading the lines of worry mixed in with his frustration. Usually she would leave him alone to process whatever is going on first but this isn't a situation she's listening in on. She's here and her curiosity gets the better of her, "what did he want?"

He stares at her, absorbing his concern because as much as he wants to he can't shield her from the truth. What he can do is downplay the fallout and he scrubs his face gaining a hold of his irritation. "Stephen Huntly has inside information on a federal case. Cahill's was giving us a heads-up, they're going to cut a deal with him."

She stills at the mention of Stephen, clamminess beading her hands and she clasps them together swallowing dryly. She's the reason they were able to convict him of murder in the first place and he's no doubt been sat in a cell harboring a grudge ever since. Just the thought of him getting out makes her feel nauseous and her voice sounds small as it breaks the silence. "He's getting out?"

"Over my dead body."

He's completely serious, having watched the color drain from her face and willing to do whatever it takes to put her mind at rest. He doesn't do the 'comfort' thing but he needs less space between them to assert himself and stands, stopping to lean against the corner of the desk. "If the information pans out he could be up for an earlier parole hearing but we can appeal."

She nods trying to steal comfort from his resolve but they both know with the feds backing Huntley's acquittal it's not going to be that simple. There's every chance he could walk free and if they attempt to road-block him it could make things worse.

"Donna..."

He can see she's scared.

The time it takes her gaze to lift just confirms her fear but she doesn't have to be afraid. He'd once promised to never let anything happen to her and he'd meant it. No matter what's changed between them since the sentiment has always stayed true and he had no problem admitting it. "You know I would never let him hurt you."

She does know that, the reminder reassuring her more than any plan to keep Stephen behind bars and she takes a deep breath calming her panic, "are you applying to be my personal bodyguard?"

He smirks.

Until the realization that he's not first in line for the position sobers the amusement. She has a boyfriend to keep her safe, Kessler every bit the Knight in shining armor from what he's heard, and he straightens needing to return the distance between them. "I'll get on the phone, find out everything I can."

There's a roughness introduced into his tone and she can only assume it's stemming from his concern, knowing the best thing she can do is let him get a handle on the situation. He doesn't respond well when he's not in control and she pushes up genuine with her gratitude. "I trust you."

She smiles softly and it swells in his chest, her unwavering faith in him the driving force behind so many decisions he's made and he answers it with a subtle nod, watching her leave and wincing when the feeling laps into a dull ache.

How long before that confidence starts to waver, before she starts placing it in Kessler instead?

There's bound to come a time where she's going to have to choose like she's done in the past with her former boyfriends but up until now she's always picked her career, _him_, over anything more serious. It terrifies him that this could be different, that Thomas might be the one who encourages her away and the thought steals the strength from his legs, his knees buckling back into the chair.

He doesn't want to lose her but he's selfishly been putting his own needs first for over a decade and when his phone lights up, a message buzzing through, he picks it up the device sinking into the distraction.

_Drink again tonight? - C_

Catalina, he reads the name that's been programmed into his contact list knowing full well he wasn't the one who put it there but tempted by the offer regardless. It's a short respite from Huntley, everything he's trying to ignore, and his rational thoughts are at war with his need to escape the shit-storm that's brewing. This time Mike would be the one having a field day but the younger lawyer isn't here and his thumbs fly hastily over the keyboard, hitting send before he can regret the decision to see the blonde again.

He needs something tangible to hold onto until the ground stops spinning and if this is it, so be it.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Donna sinks into the bath, the warm suds popping and fizzing as she holds her wine letting the soft aroma of lavender unwind her aching muscles. Sore, because between seeing Thomas and her regular yoga routine it's twice as much exercise as her body is used to and she smiles having regaled Rachel with all the details during their call earlier this evening. Her way of describing it had been to paint her boyfriend as strong and gentle in the bedroom, considerate, giving and definitely adequate which had fuelled the brunette's excitement a little too much. The conversation had quickly turned to wedding dates and baby names which she'd conveniently managed to escape by telling her best friend she'd had to leave and get ready for their date tonight.

The thoughts have lingered though, circling around with visions of what a future with Thomas could look like. She's only been seeing him a little over a month, two weeks since finally telling Harvey and her former boss being amicable about the relationship has helped shed her anxiety. Thomas is becoming a fixture and now the acceptance is there her doubts are giving way to genuine happiness. She can see them one day moving out of the honeymoon phase and into something more serious, the kind of thing that could actually last.

She's surprised by how easy it is to be around him, the time they spend together fun and uncomplicated. Every morning she wakes up to his calm collected persona and it leaves her with a sense of fulfillment, the content feeling guiding her through whatever crisis or panic is happening at work- a place where there's a new drama unfolding every minute.

She used to hate leaving things unfinished but since meeting Thomas she's had a reason to come home at a reasonable hour, to forget the stress pent up behind walls and windows of glass. The relationship is like her private sanctuary and she slips her head back further, trading the wine for her phone when it lights up on the tiled marble but her euphoria dips with the realization it isn't Thomas but the unknown number that's been harassing her all week. There's been no speaker on the other end just static or silence in place of a voice and her stomach knots as she turns the device over, placing it a safe distance from the water.

It's probably nothing- that's what's she's been telling herself.

A wrong number or bad connection... but justifying it with reason is harder to do when she knows Stephen Huntley has been moved to a less secure facility. She's come to terms with the arrangements of his deal, details Harvey had threatened to prise out of Cahill's lifeless hands if he didn't share them first, and Harvey's doing what he can, preparing grounds for an appeal between his current caseloads... should there be grounds for an early release.

Realistically, time is going to be the only thing that yields any results. They have to be patient but unfortunately neither one of them are good at waiting. What she can take comfort from is that, paranoid or not, she doesn't have to be afraid.

Harvey had made a point of reassuring her and she swallows her hesitation, tilting the object to check the time and relieved to see only one missed call bringing the total up to four. Yesterday had been worse, the record twelve. Hopefully whoever it is are taking the hint and she starts to relax again, downing the rest of her wine and sloshing out of the water to find a towel and dry off. She'd brought a change of clothes into the bathroom not wanting to leave the warmth of the heat lamps to get dressed and she slips on a pair of fresh underwear followed by smart black capri pants and a white fluffy sweater. She and Thomas had decided to order in rather than brave the snow outside so she opts for little make-up keeping the look light and casual, letting her hair fall in loose waves over her shoulder as she sprays a subtle amount of perfume.

She's just recapping the bottle when the buzzer sounds and she places the fragrance back on the shelf, padding out to let Thomas up.

He arrives with a smile, his eyes taking her in and she blushes as he leans forward pressing his lips against her temple. "Hey, beautiful."

He's never been shy about giving her compliments and she dips her head, lifting it back up and finding her confidence with the same amount of enthusiasm. "Hey yourself, handsome."

She beckons him in closing the door, a flutter dancing in her stomach as he shrugs out of his coat and wet boots. He's nothing if not a gentleman and she searches for his hand, leading him to where there's a bottle of wine sat waiting with two glasses on the dining room table.

"It's like you knew I was coming." He jokes, his fingers falling to the small of her back when she releases them.

"This clairvoyance thing has its perks." She quips. digging a cork-screw in and working it around- met by a silence that's not what she's expecting. Usually he's fast with banter and she tilts her gaze, concerned by the faint creases of tension wrinkling under his eyes. It's a look she's never seen him wear before and she stops what she's doing, placing the bottle down and turning around to face him. "Which is how I know there's something going on."

Of course she does, he thinks to himself, the wonder that is Donna Paulsen bringing a soft smile to his lips.

"Nothing bad," he promises, reaching for the wine to pick up where she left off and he finishes the job handing her the drink, "but here is something I wanted to discuss with you." Her brow dips with confusion and he can see her mind turning over, her ability to read people astounding, and he shakes his head with a light chuckle, "are you ever going to tell me how you do that?"

"How to be awesome, you mean?" She showboats but for once it isn't out of habit. She's nervous and fingers the stem of her glass pushing through her hesitation, answering his question, "no... and don't change the subject."

Anyone else and he would have tried to ease them in gently but the redhead is unlike anyone he's ever met and he motions towards the sofa with his free arm, "come on, let's sit down."

She gives in to his openness or rather the easiness, clutching her wine as she trails behind him and she sits pulling her legs up on the couch beside him, waiting expectantly. "So?"

He does her the courtesy of diving straight in. "I've found a new investor for my company and the potential they're offering is huge." His excitement bubbles over, still not able to believe the opportunity they've presented him with. It's a life long dream but ever since they told him about the offer he's been stuck in limbo.

He likes Donna, a lot.

She's beautiful, smart and witty. She has a unique flair that he's been falling for since their first date and the cliché isn't an exaggeration. He's on the right path to falling completely head-over-heels in love which is big and almost, if not equally, as exhilarating as what he's about to share with her and he clears his throat readying himself with the news ."They want to merge under Thomas Kessler designs and turn the business into a joint franchise across multiple states all over the country."

"Thomas, that's amazing." Her mouth opens in a grin on his behalf, sensing he's still in shock and she doesn't blame him. She's seen his work, knows how much he's put into growing the business and the reward isn't undeserving. "I'm really happy for you-"

"There's a catch." He cuts off her congratulations, his shoulders deflating - fully aware that what he's about to reveal is going to put them both in a potentially difficult position but he hasn't come this far to simply give up on them. "Their main headquarters are in Denver and they want me to move there."

"As in Colorado?" She asks the question as if a different location will somehow change the meaning behind what he's saying and his nod stings, a pang of uncertainty driving the alcohol she's holding up to her mouth. She's never been one to shy away from difficult questions and this time isn't any different, though she's careful about how she approaches it. "Not to be selfish, _but_..."

"Where does that leave us?" He finishes, feeling the same way. The very fact she was one of his first thoughts after reading through the contract proves there's something special between them and he doesn't want to lose her. It's only been several weeks but his heart is already taken by her and he sets down his glass turning to face her. "I think we could have a real shot at something here."

She does too or _did_, confusion tangling around her surprise. It doesn't sound like the start of a conversation where he wants to end things but she doesn't know if a long term relationship would be sustainable and she holds his gaze tugging her lip between her teeth, "Thomas, what are you saying?"

"That you could come with me?" He takes a breath knowing it sounds crazy but then again maybe it isn't. They both have similar goals and aspirations, they want the same things out of life and he knows that because they've talked about it. They don't have secrets, both too upfront and confident to bother with facades and sure, it's a risk, but if it was anyone else he wouldn't even be asking and he honestly thinks it's worth taking a chance." It would be for a year initially but after that I'd be free to run the company from wherever I like. New York, Boston... Maui, if I wanted to."

He's smiling but visions of sun-soaked sand and lapping waves don't encourage a witty response back. She's speechless, her cheeks flushing hotly beneath his attention. She can't just pack up her life and follow him. That would be ridiculous but going back to nights without him, no texts or phone calls, _missing_ him- that doesn't seem right either. She's waited so long to meet someone who makes her happy, who is funny and caring, kind and considerate. Thomas checks every box, all her previous relationships paling in comparison, and she doesn't want to completely dismiss the idea just because they haven't hit any distinctive or long term milestones. There _is_ something between them but leaving her home is a lot to ask, the thought overwhelming.

He watches her deliberate and doesn't want to add any pressure, landing a third proposal on his lips. "Or I could turn down the offer."

She forces herself to find his gaze, her lips curving despite everything he's just put on the table. He's an honorable man and wouldn't have suggested staying unless part of him was willing to make the sacrifice but she would never let him do it and they both know it. "You can't do that."

He expects the answer and is relieved but also scared that it places them back into an unsolvable problem but he's completely candid with what he's feeling, hoping the truth will compel her to at least consider the proposal. "I don't want to lose you, Donna."

He says it without any hesitation and her chest swells with indecision, floored by how ready he is to admit it and in a twist of irony her thoughts turn to Harvey- the most closed-off man she knows. For someone incapable of accessing his emotions he'd be devastated if she left him. It had been hard enough when she'd changed desks, the act uncovering a well of abandonment issues and even though he's worked through them since she's not sure how he'd handle another person up and leaving.

It's an ingrained instinct, second nature to put him first and she quickly berates herself for it. This decision isn't about Harvey, it's about her, and she takes a sip of wine gulping it down with a deep breath, "I don't want to lose you either... but I'm going to need some time, to think about everything."

"Should I go out, come back in?" He thumbs at the door, his tone joking and when she rolls her eyes the reaction steals whatever tension has been resting between them. He's not expecting an answer right away. He'd just wanted to be completely transparent with his thoughts so she knows where he stands. "Look Donna, there's no pressure. If you do decide it's something you might want to consider we could always trial it out for a few months, see how it goes... and if not, then I'll respect that too. Whatever happens, I'm just glad we're getting to share this time together now."

His hand falls to her knee with a gentle squeeze and she moves her glass to the table sharing the same sentiment and swallowing passed the lump nestled in her throat. He really is perfect, to the point it's almost intimidating but her fingers slide against his cheek not ashamed by the moisture gathered on her lashes. "How about we stop wasting it then?"

He smirks softly, catching the suggestion beneath his mouth, the kiss slow but heated and her body warm as she moves into his arms. Never mind what could happen. He's ready to give into his vulnerability and admit that he's falling in love with her.

It's a game changer.

He just wishes his piece was the next one to move.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Donna's feet kick into the dim light of Harvey's office, her thoughts distracted which is hardly a surprise. She's been caught in a daze ever since Thomas dropped his bombshell about Denver. Or more specifically since he'd asked her to think about going with him. There are moments the idea seems absurd but others where she finds herself contemplating it and she struggles with her guilt, the unspoken dilemma adding another layer of distance between herself and Harvey.

She's been avoiding him. Not obviously or in an unprofessional capacity but on an emotional level because he has an influence over her heart that reaches beyond anyone else. It hasn't always been to her detriment, shaping her career and grounding a solid friendship but the lines become blurry when she's dating and this decision is bigger than any other she's had to make in the past.

Stay or go, it has to be for her own reasons and she forces a smile, handing over the report he'd asked her to retrieve since his secretary had left for the night. "Did they revoke your access to the filing room again because you know it's just a push door, right?"

He takes the folder rolling his eyes at the sarcasm. "Thank you, Donna." Truth is, he didn't go himself because it would've have taken him an hour to find what she could locate in five minutes and more figuratively because he's been looking for an excuse to reach out to her. She's seemed off the last couple of days. Nothing that's any cause for alarm but he's noticed and usually he wouldn't even bring it up. She has a right to her privacy, especially now she's seeing someone, but there's a more accessible excuse than his need to pry. He's worried that the drama with Huntley is still playing on her mind and the building concern slips out passed his hesitation. "You doing okay?"

There's a softness beneath his tone that surprises her and she tries to escape his probing gaze, her eyes darting to glittering lights of the New York skyline. She's always loved the view from this office and she chews her lips afraid to answer honestly.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

She blinks, feeling his skeptical look bore into her and this is exactly why she's been avoiding him. Because he has a way of drawing out the hard truths whether she's ready to face them or not. "Maybe..." she admits, shaking her head, "I don't know."

He frowns at her uncertainty, the response tugging in his chest. She's always been the one who's sure of herself, confident and unwavering in the face of adversity. He can count the times he's seen her falter and they've been few and far between but he asked the question. It's his responsibility to step up and help where he can with the state of flux she's in. "Why don't I fix us a drink."

She opens her mouth but he's moving before she can try and dissuade him, anticipating the needs she can't assess right now. There's a block put in place by nerves and she swallows them down with a gentle nod. "I have a few things I need to pack up." It's really just an excuse to figure out what the hell she's going to say and to armor herself against any possible reaction but she needs a minute and excuses herself, heels treading across the carpet.

Something uneasy settles in his stomach but he lets her go, sinking into the chair by the three-seater and pouring two fingers of whiskey, splashing a little more to steel himself with liquid courage. The air feels charged like there's a storm brewing but he dismisses the paranoia trying not let it bother him. In the thirteen years they've been together they're yet to encounter anything they haven't been able to overcome. They've tested their friendship, pushed it to the limits on several occasions but they always find their way back and he holds onto the comfort until she returns.

He watches her perch on the edge of the couch closing her hand around the glass he'd set aside and he nurses his own, breaking the silence first. "What's on your mind?"

She takes a too big sip of whiskey relishing the burn as it scolds her throat. She's never had to be drunk to hold a conversation with him but there have been times a steady flow of alcohol has helped and if ever one has qualified, it's now. "Thomas found an investor in Denver..." she breathes out, keeping her gaze fixed on the amber liquid. "They want him to move there."

"Colorado?"

She almost smiles at the same response she'd given but can't, her muscles coiling with hesitation and her lips wind awkwardly around the attempt. "He asked me to go with him." The comment is met by silence and she glances up, unable to read his expression- waiting for him to say something.

He loses a second.

An entire moment when his heart stops beating and then pounds rapidly out of sync. His mouth feels dry despite the whiskey he downs, the dim lights swimming under his blurry focus. She's leaving him. Or isn't. The reality of what she means is hard to sustain but he doesn't insult either of their intelligence by assuming she's not. Why else bring it up? She's isn't the sort to evoke drama and his default reaction is to shut off from the pain and deflect against it.

"I see."

His features harden and she isn't at all surprised. Not once has he ever met a situation he didn't like with compassion and understating. It's not in his nature to be empathetic but it is in hers and guilt drives the need to defend herself. "I know it's sudden-"

"No Donna, dropping dead from a heart attack is _sudden_." He bites back, hoping the tightness in his chest isn't fortuitous. What she's suggesting isn't some spur of the moment choice. It's over a decade of mistakes being thrust in his face and the betrayal stings as if he's been physically slapped.

She glosses over the accusation to move them forward, knowing it's just his way of searching for an outlet. When he's backed against a wall his instinct is to come out swinging but she's not entrapping him. It isn't some ploy or charade and she's not trying to lord anything over him. He's asked if she was okay. He engaged first and she's simply trying to give their friendship the respect it deserves. "I didn't say I was going."

"But you're thinking about it." He counters, the whiskey in his drink disappearing under the weight of her gaze and he reaches to pour another, leaving the bottle sat between them.

She follows his lead and takes it for herself not denying his words because why should she? If this is what it all boils down to, his inability to accept she has needs outside of his own, then what are they even doing. "I'm thinking about it."

The confirmation turns his blood cold, the sensation splintering through his veins like ice and every fiber of his being wants to retaliate, be an asshole because that's what he does. Except this is different. She's not a prosecutor or someone he has a vendetta against. She's the woman who's stood by him for over a decade, his best friend, and he's learned the hard way that keeping her in his life means sometimes sacrificing his ego.

It's never been easy for him to do and the notion is suffocating, swarming over his resentment and illuminating his selfishness. She deserves more. She always has and he releases his anger, staring down at his hands.

"You should do whatever's going to make you happy."

His voice catches and even though he covers it by taking a drink, her stomach clenches at the turnaround. There's no malice, only tired deflation slumping his shoulders which is almost harder to watch. She isn't doing this to hurt him. She's considering the move because Thomas is someone she truly cares about but he's not the only important person in her life and she drums her glass, silently willing him to look up but knowing he won't.

"_This_ makes me happy." She admits softly, obviously not referring to the tension but rather the comfort of familiarity, the walls encasing her that have become like a second home. The firm is her family and she can't think of a solution that isn't going to rip her heart in two when she decides. "Giving it all up..." her eyes drift to the horizon, scanning the view as she deliberates with herself, "there's a lot I would miss."

He finally works up the strength to face her and knows the alcohol rushing through his bloodstream is starting to take effect because he's less terrified and more bold with his response. "Anyone in particular?"

She tilts her head, reading his light tone as an apology which she accepts because she did just blindside him. "Do you really need me to answer that?" Over a decade of friendship should speak for itself but his shrug doesn't fill her with confidence.

"No, I guess not." There are a thousand reasons why he does, the night they'd spent together coming back to haunt him. At the time her rule had been a relief. He'd naively assumed it meant there was a clear line defining their relationship but time has chipped away at it and now he doesn't know where they stand. They keep finding their footing only to trip up again and he takes the same leeway she did when she'd kissed him, not physically but emotionally, crossing the same line. "I get it... I'm not _him_."

A trace of bitterness creeps in but she doesn't shy away from it, too many years of pent up frustration behind her defense, "because you didn't _want_ to be, Harvey."

The accusation lands heavily but he can't fault the truth behind it. He wasn't ready to risk everything. Even faced with the prospect of losing her he's still not sure he can take the chance. He loves her more than he hates himself and the thought barrels out under a whisper, "yeah, well... look who's the fool now, huh?"

The rawness cuts through her but doesn't offer any real insight into what he's thinking. As per usual the words are laced with uncertainty, just enough to pull her in and she's exhausted by it, by _him. _She doesn't have the energy to keep doing this with him and murmurs the frustration just loud enough for him to hear. it "Jesus you're an asshole."

He scoffs, not about to deny it. She has an amazing opportunity to be with someone who will give her the world and instead of telling her to go or begging her not too, all he can do is candidly play-off how he feels. "That may have been pointed out, once or twice."

She knows better than to engage him. It's the same trap that only ever leads to embarrassment but maybe that's what she's searching for- a final nail in the coffin to give her closure. "Is this your way of asking me to stay?"

He stills, not sure how to answer... the potential consequences of voicing his fear rendering him silent. He isn't sure what he's scared of; rejection, commitment, that he's going to screw up her life? He's always been a gambling man because he's never been afraid to lose but this time he is and he finds her gaze, needing more to bet with. "Would it make a difference if I was?"

She blinks at him, the push and pull he's dancing around creating waves of disappointment. This is all they're ever going to be, hidden meanings and unspoken words that hold everything and nothing at the same time. If he can't see that asking her would change everything then it's because he won't let himself and she gathers her purse, shirking off the responsibility of holding his hand. "If you have to ask me that, then you're not ready to hear the answer."

Her voice echoes unsteadily and he rises with her, his body moving to block her path before she can round the table. "Donna, please." Letting her leave feels like the beginning of the end and his voice is thick, choked with emotion as his hand falls to the crease of her elbow, giving her more than words that have failed him in the past. "Don't go, _stay_."

His touch feels like fire against her skin, desperation sparking from his fingertips and she doesn't know if he means now or indefinitely. Her expression is shrouded with confusion but before she can ask, a buzz against her side slams her thoughts back to reality- to Thomas whose gestures don't need clarifying.

What they have is transparent, real, and she slips free of Harvey's grasp. Only the call isn't from her boyfriend. It's the same unknown number she's been avoiding, the vibrations having gone unnoticed while she was in the file-room but there are at least twenty missed calls and she pales at the ramped-up harassment.

Harvey stares intently at her reaction, recognizing as one of fear and not anything to do with _him_ fucking up. Given their current situation he doesn't know if that's better or worse but something has her rattled and his worry drives through the tension. "Donna, what's wrong?"

His demeanor hardens, concern replacing his vulnerability and she's grateful for the shift, needing to be back on solid ground with him. She thought she could ignore the problem, that the persistence would ease up but it hasn't. It's getting worse and a heavy sigh tips her stubbornness. "Someone's been calling me from an unknown number."

She doesn't obscure his view or protest when he takes the phone to see for himself. Instead, she waits patiently, arms falling loosely around her midsection as he thumbs through the list.

His jaw clenches at the sheer volume of entries dating back to when he'd told her about Huntley and his gaze flicks up, bypassing hers out of frustration at both the situation and her recklessness. Stephen isn't some petty thief or tax evader. He was charged with goddamn murder and she should have told him the moment it started, not waiting until things escalated. "_Donna_-"

"I know." She winces, her eyes apologetic as they slip to her feet. He's right. She should have mentioned it sooner but keeping it from him hadn't been intentional. There'd been so many other things going on in her head the calls had been pushed to the back of her mind and embarrassment flushes her face. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

The lecture he'd been about to give dies on his lips, a rush of air expelling into his cheeks. This is exactly what Stephen wants, to taunt them both, and he steels himself refusing to let the prick win. "I'll call Cahill, we'll get whatever privileges Huntley's been given revoked."

She nods, the rage beneath his calmness showing in the tight grip around her phone. It's a complication they really didn't need right now, his earlier words coming back to haunt the silence and she doesn't know what else to say. Her throat feels like it's made of quicksand, swallowing up her questions and he doesn't offer up any answers either.

He wants to explain but can't, trapped by the same muddy intentions that had catapulted him in front of her. He doesn't know what he's doing, just that he can't lose her, but a harsh vibration in his hand startles away his resolve. The familiar name turns his insides with nausea and he quickly pushes the device toward her. "Thomas. You should take it."

_Should she?_

For a brief second she hesitates, wondering what it would be like if he could just let go, take her in his arms and kiss her senseless but she stops herself from going down that road. It's a selfish thought that isn't fair on herself or Thomas and she steals the phone back with trembling fingers, swiping to accept the call and forcing her voice to comply, hoping it sounds natural in spite of her racing pulse.

Harvey moves out of her way, hands falling limply as she drives away from him with a determined stride. He watches her leave, waiting until she's gone before letting out the strangled breath he'd been holding, the sound ragged as it mirrors the emptiness he's feeling inside. It hurts like hell, _worse... _but he's doing it for her and he'll go through the pain a hundred times over if it means giving her a chance for more.

Thomas is a good man.

A _better_ man.

If she wants to leave he'll find a way to accept it because she deserves to be happy.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

"You got a sec?"

Donna glances up at a sharp knock, fingers stalling their flight over her keyboard as Harvey ducks his head inside her office. They've been forcing pleasantries all morning, treading on eggshells around each other but the tension between them isn't unfamiliar. Unfortunately, it's something she's almost gotten used to over the years, and she motions him in, rising above it.

He accepts the invite, scrubbing the side of his face as he trudges over the threshold, and she doesn't stare but notices several tell-tale signs of his exhaustion. The off-center tie, the shadow of stubble across his jaw- he looks like she feels. Except she knows instead of losing sleep to his thoughts, he went out trying to drown them with alcohol. He's going through the motions, processing his emotions the same way he always does, and she breathes in a sigh, folding down the lid of her laptop.

He stops at her vacant chair, choosing to stand, and winding his fingers over the white leather. "I spoke to Cahill." He pinches the fabric, not bothering to hide his frustration. He's always had a tremulous relationship with Sean. He respects the man for keeping him in the loop but is pissed by the prosecutor's seeming lack of concern. He's treating Huntley like some sort of goddamn Prior, and he falters, not wanting to admit he came up short.

"Let me guess. Cahill swears the calls aren't coming from Stephen." She isn't mad and if anything her expression softens at the guilt flickering across Harvey's face. It's not his fault. He's been moving heaven and earth to put her mind at ease, and they just have to accept and trust that Cahill knows what he's doing. "It's okay."

It's _not_, and he winces at the reassurance. Huntley's phone records were clean but that doesn't mean he's absolved- just that he's using inside connections to extend his influence to the outside world. Stephen is calculated and manipulative, the exact reason he was restricted to a maximum-security prison, but the warning had fallen on deaf ears. Sean's hands are tied without proof, and short of committing a federal crime to get himself incarcerated, he has no way of getting any. "Any more today?"

She assumes he's referring to the calls and shakes her head. After she'd left him last night her cell had gone quiet and she'd pushed the worry to the back of her mind, focusing her thoughts on Denver instead, and her eyes dart to the blank screen with a shrug. "Maybe he realized it wasn't worth the risk of getting caught."

He isn't convinced by the reasoning. If they've stopped, it's more likely Huntley is just laying low, biding time until they schedule his hearing, and he squares his shoulders wary of them becoming complacent. Obviously she has a lot going on, the pounding in his head a physical reminder that in a few weeks it might not even be an issue, but so long as she's still in New York, Huntley's proved he can reach her. It might just be an intimidation tactic, but that doesn't mean they shouldn't take the harassment seriously. "You're staying with Thomas, right?"

He's shifts on the balls of his feet, clearly uncomfortable asking, and she falters with her response, wondering what he would suggest if she weren't. As unsettling as it is, she's not going to let Stephen interfere with the daily runnings of her life. If she does that, Huntley wins, and Harvey should know better than to roll over. "I'll email you my itinerary, or did you want specifics?"

He flinches, details the last goddamn thing he needs, and the blatant sarcasm makes him deflate with a sigh. He can't keep her safe when she's not at work but Thomas can, and if that's the trade-off he has to make, he will. "I want you to be careful, that's all."

The lack of banter drives her gaze up, and she reads the seriousness resting behind his eyes, instantly feeling guilty. He has a habit of being overprotective but only because he cares, and she leans back in her chair with a sigh. "We're going out tonight and yes, he's staying over."

"Good." The lie slips out quickly, encouraging him to take the out and leave, but instead, he steps forward, palming the marble glass. "You should tell Thomas about the calls." He says finally, not sure why he feels compelled to stay and keep torturing himself. It's not like she's going anywhere in the next few hours, but he hates the awkwardness that's resting between them, and swallows, lifting his hand off the desk. "Keep him in the loop, just in case."

She raises an eyebrow, his nearness making her pulse beat faster, and she finds her pen twirling it loosely, using the object as a distraction. "How do you know I haven't?"

"_Because_..." his mouth softens with a smile, "you don't like people fussing over you, and you're stubborn."

Her cheeks flush under his gaze, and her lips twitch in response. "I think the words you're looking for are strong-willed and capable." He smirks, and for a moment the air feels lighter, returning a sense of normalcy. She appreciates everything he's doing to take care of Stephen, but more than that, she's surprised by the maturity he's displaying. Even if he can't be forthcoming with his thoughts, he seems to be genuinely trying to keep things amicable which is something he hasn't necessarily done in the past. It's a selfless act, and it's moments like these that make leaving almost impossible to consider, her chest falling with a small sigh. "Thank you, Harvey."

He's not entirely sure why she's thanking him, but the dull ache in his chest eases with the gratitude, even though he shrugs it off. "I'll let you know if I hear anything else." He pulls himself back, hands falling into his pocket and he feels a vibration between his fingertips, waiting until he steps out before checking the phone.

_Last night was fun. Dinner? - C_

He flinches, sure he can feel Donna's gaze at the base of his neck, and it prickles with heat, his leg moving to put distance between them. Technically he's not doing anything wrong but is still embarrassed, borderline ashamed of the random nights he's spent with Catalina. He likes the blonde. She's well-educated, classy, and for a few hours he gets to forget his life isn't being held up by mountains of regret- but it isn't fair. She's another woman in his life who deserves more, and he texts her agreeing to dinner so he can end things properly between them.

It seems like the right thing to do, and he shoves the device back in his pocket, telling his secretary to make a reservation as he passes Donna's old cubicle with a sigh. He misses the simpler times when she worked there and even before that, his memory reaching around to when they'd both been at the DA's office- to the night they never talk about that had unknowingly changed everything for him.

In the privacy of his office, he can silently admit to himself that maybe things had never been simple. She'd invested in a piece of him the day she'd chosen to move to his desk and now, years later, it's fully under her ownership. If she decides to leave, he'll be losing it with her but even if he could, he wouldn't take it back.

It's hers, always, and deep down he hopes she knows that.

.

* * *

.

It's early evening when Donna meets Thomas for a drink, the two of them deciding to brave the NYC winter and head to a bar before settling in for the night. She finds him sat at a quiet booth in the back, a bottle of wine already on the table, and she smiles when he stands to help her out of her coat, his lips warm as they flutter against hers.

She slides in on the opposite side, bundling the fabric beside her and asking how his day was, the conversation easy as it flows between them. She tries not to think about what she'd be doing right now if he weren't here, knowing the answer lies in a cold, darkened apartment with re-runs of some bad reality tv show keeping her company. In the warmer months it's different. She's much more extroverted and social but this time of the year has always seen her working longer hours and choosing to stay inside.

Thomas breaks into her thoughts, casually mentioning he's been looking at apartments online, and she idly wonders what Denver will be like in the spring. If the people there are outgoing or family orientated, whether she could stand the slower pace or if it would drive her stir crazy?

It's only when his thumb skates across her hand that she realizes he's talking about it because he's asking for her input, implying it could be a place for the two of them, and the realness of what he's suggesting stirs a rising panic. He said he'd give her time but these sorts of questions are bound to keep coming up, and she retracts her hand, sinking it into her lap.

"Or I can keep looking for myself..." he probes gently, not wanting to add any pressure.

"I'm sorry, Thomas." It's a feeble attempt to avoid answering, uncertainty winding in her stomach because she can't see the decision becoming any easier. She doesn't want to lose him, but New York is her home, and she takes the cowards way out leading him away from the conversation. "Something happened at work today and I'm just a little distracted."

She doesn't glance up, and a soft frown turns his lips, immediately concerned by the comment. "Is everything okay?"

The worry in his voice makes her wince, and she nods to reassure him, not having considered that telling him about Stephen would be equally as difficult. Harvey was right. She hates people fussing over her and tries to downplay it as best she can. "A few years ago our firm went through a merger and we took on a case for Hessington Oil."

"I remember, it was all over the news." He picks up his wine, taking a sip, trying to recall the details. It was something about the company's CEO being charged with a string of murders but she'd been found innocent at the eleventh hour. "The person charged turned out to be a lawyer, right?"

"He was a senior partner at our firm." She hesitates, reaching for her glass but rather than drinking from it, she cups the stem between her hands, "we were dating at the time. After I broke things off I helped get the confession that put him away."

He's surprised by the admission, least of all because he can't imagine anyone being able to pull the wool over her eyes. She's incredibly intuitive, and he feels a spark of anger on her behalf, instantly hating the man for obviously hurting her. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

She finally glances up, appreciating the sincerity behind his words and smiling gently, "me too." It had been difficult but in retrospect, the relationship wasn't based on trust. Stephen had been manipulative right from the start, and she'd engaged it as a bit of fun, not expecting to get burned, but she had, badly, and her mouth tenses with the more recent problem. "He's been offered a deal by the feds to trade information for an earlier parole hearing. They moved him out of maximum security and I've been getting unknown calls since. I'm sure it's nothing but-"

"Donna, that's not nothing." He cuts her off, knowing her well enough by now to see she's sugarcoating. A man convicted of murder who's harassing her is serious, and he sets aside his glass, clasping his hands between them. "Have you spoken to the police?"

"Not directly. Harvey's been taking care of it." She admits, a little embarrassed by how it sounds but it's more complicated than walking into a station and making a complaint. Their connection is through Cahill, but Thomas seems less concerned by the confession and more relieved to hear Harvey is involved.

"Well then, I guess I owe the man a drink." More than one if what Louis has told him over the years is true. According to his lawyer, Harvey is the best closer in NYC, both loyal and ruthless, two qualities he's certain can guarantee Donna's safety.

She tries not to blanch at the awkwardness her mind conjures. The two men have only ever spoken in passing at the firm, and she can't see Harvey rushing to take Thomas up on the offer, but she swallows the doubt with a sip of wine, steering them back to safer ground. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"It's okay." His lips curve gently, "but you know you can talk to me, about anything."

There's a weight to the comment, and she knows he means Denver, her pulse quickening at the push, but he's right. As hard as it is, she has to face up own up her fear. Talking to Harvey had only led her round in circles, but Thomas is the person she should be looking to for answers, and she bites her lip, distractedly toying with it. "I want to come with you..."

An inevitable 'but' hangs in the air and he fills in the blanks, "but your life is here."

He watches indecision flicker across her face and honestly, he completely understands the hesitation. Moving was a big ask and he's been thinking a lot about their options, wondering if he was selfish to put that as the first one on the table. That's why this morning he'd revisited their plan C, and he takes a deep breath, exhaling it slowly, "I spoke to the investors today about postponing the offer. So long as I sign a promise of intent, they're willing to hold it open for another six months."

She swallows thickly, her vision swimming at the lengths he's willing to go to, but it's not that simple. Even with a promise of intent, they could still withdraw the offer at any time, and she would never forgive herself if he missed out on the opportunity because of her. "Thomas-"

"Please, just... hear me out," he stops her, his hands moving across the table to take the glass from her. He's been afraid to say the words burning a hole in his mouth, worried it might be too soon, but it feels like the right moment and he clasps her fingers, holding them lightly. "If you're not ready to leave, I get it, but staying is worth the risk for me... because I'm falling in love with you, Donna."

She stills, heart pounding against her ribcage, before she steals her hands back, a lump forming in her throat. It's everything she wants to hear but not at the cost of his business. If she can't leave now, then who's to say she'll be ready in another six months or that it won't change things between them. He may be willing to take the risk but she can't let him and chokes back her emotion, _lying_, because it's the only way to protect him. "I'm sorry Thomas, I really am... but I don't feel the same way. I care about you but it isn't enough." "

She avoids his gaze, not wanting to see the look of hurt in his eyes and her own sting with moisture as she bundles up her coat, sliding out of the booth. She's half expecting him to try and stop her, but he doesn't. He stays still, and the silence drives through her, the weight of it crushing her chest.

There's nothing else left to say.

This is the choice she's making for both of them, and she leaves him sitting there, swiping the tears that fall hotly across her cheeks- hating herself for what she just did. She wants to go back and undo it but forces herself forward because even though it's tearing her apart, it was the right thing to do.

Hopefully, Thomas will be able to see that, and she'll somehow find a way to live with the regret.

.

* * *

.

Harvey downs his second whiskey of the night, his eyes drifting to the hostess for the third time in under an hour. He can't remember the last time he had to wait for a table and silently curses his secretary's standards, not caring that it was a last-minute arrangement. When Donna had been on his desk things always ran like clockwork, and his gaze falls to his now empty glass, silently willing time to move faster.

"Everything okay?" Catalina asks, sensing the air of tension and taking a sip from her Long Island Iced Tea. Even though it's their first proper date, she'd been hoping to start breaking through some of the walls and barriers he's had in place since they met. He's an attractive man, and she likes the fun they've been having, but she can feel a genuine connection between them and wants to get to know the real Harvey Specter. The powerhouse behind the suit who's nothing if not intriguing.

"Sorry..." he murmurs, bringing his gaze back up and forcing a smile. Earlier it had seemed gentlemanly to bring her out, but now it feels like he's just prolonging the awkwardness. "A little distracted, I guess."

He's grateful when the hostess swans over to refill his whiskey, assuring them it won't be much longer with a sickly sweet voice that he's sure is mocking him. She leaves them alone again, and he's about to ask about Catalina's afternoon, pad out the conversation, but she breaks the silence first.

"Something to do with Donna?" She asks cautiously, lips moving around her straw.

"How do you-"

"She's your first speed-dial." There's no judgment just curiosity behind her interest. She'd wanted to program herself in as a joke but hadn't, gauging he might not see it as amusing. She'd created a new contact instead, messaging herself to get his number, assuming he wasn't the kind of guy to text first, and she'd been surprised when he'd responded instantly the next day.

"She's our firm's COO." He justifies, though he shouldn't have to, annoyed by the question. He hadn't given her permission to go through his phone and even if he had, Donna is the last person he feels like discussing right now, the shame behind his mistakes making him bristle. "A lot is going on at the moment and she oversees how everything is run."

His shoulders tense over the drink he's gripping, and she knows immediately that bringing up the woman's name was a mistake. "I wasn't trying to pry." He nods sharply, a sign he's still pissed and she sighs, realizing this night isn't going where she thought it would. If anything, it feels like he's just here out of obligation, and that's not something she wants. "I don't think dinner is such a great idea after all." She sets down her cocktail, making it easy for him. "I like you and I thought this might be going somewhere but from the sounds of things, you don't feel the same way."

He winces, his expression softening slightly and he doesn't know which is stronger his guilt or relief. They're both at war with each other but he tries not to let the latter show as he sits up straighter. "I'm sorry, Catalina." The apology is honest and the difference between him now and ten years ago. Back then he wouldn't have even bothered with it but he feels compelled to try and smooth things over. "I'm not looking to be in any kind of relationship right now."

That much is obvious and she gathers her purse, disappointed but realizing there's not anything she can do right now to convince him otherwise. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me... goodbye, Harvey."

She sidesteps the hostess who glances between the pair before her beaming grin lands on him.

"Your table is ready now, Sir."

It takes a tremendous amount of effort not to tell her where to shove it. Instead, he forces a smile. "I won't be needing it anymore."

He rises but doesn't leave. Instead, he heads to the bar and orders a double shot knocking it straight back, the burn reminding him to line his stomach unless he wants a repeat of today's hangover tomorrow. However, he's in no way inclined tp stay here and deal with the condescending wait staff. He'd rather be alone with his company and pulls his wallet out with a sigh, sliding a bill across the oak and moving to retrieve his coat and scarf from the recliner.

He makes his way down the stairs, back out into the cold where there's no sign of Catalina, and he's grateful, assuming she must have hailed a cab. He thinks about doing the same but would rather let the fresh air sober his thoughts, and he treads the snow feeling it slush beneath his feet. He rarely wanders aimlessly, but tonight he doesn't pay much attention to where he's going, following the neon lights of street vendors and eventually stopping to order a quesadilla.

He's barely half a block through it when the cardboard taste starts to dry out his mouth and the rest lands in the nearest bin, his motivation to find something else waning as the wind picks up. He should go home, get some real sleep or at least _try, _and he steps onto the curb to flag down a ride when his phone buzzes, urging him further back onto the pavement, his mouth dipping at Donna's name.

He'd sent her with Ray to meet Thomas hours ago, and he swipes, bringing the device up to his ear- which is then greeted by a flurry of drunk rambling. He struggles to keep up, deciphering the keywords 'Thomas' and 'fight' that then build into a hiccuped apology and what sounds like a muffled sob. He's seen Donna drunk, and she's never been emotional before, but when she confesses to losing her purse, he knows whatever happened must have been bad, and he manages to prise out the name of the pub she's at, concern driving him back to the curb.

He jumps in the first cab the stops, telling Donna to stay put and reeling the place off to the driver as he hangs up, his frustration growing with each red light they're forced to stop at. He'd warned her to be careful, not go out and get completely hammered, and he scrubs his jaw selfishly wishing he knew what the fight had been about. He can assume Denver but doesn't know if that means she's staying, and the hope burns through him feeding his guilt. The last thing he wants to do is see her get hurt and his nerves ball tightly, not sure what he's supposed to say or do when he gets there.

By the time they arrive, he still doesn't have an answer, but worry motivates him out of the vehicle and spots her standing outside, her eyes red and puffy as they land on him. To his relief, she seems more composed, and he crosses the short distance, breathing out his concern, "are you okay?"

She sniffs, shaking her head, feeling dizzy, and needing to leave. After walking out on Thomas, she'd found the nearest place to start drinking and had called Rachel, throwing back shot after shot of tequila, deeply regretting her actions. She should never have lied to him, but Rachel had warned against trying to fix it tonight and suggested she go home instead. Something hampered by the now missing purse she'd tossed carelessly under the bar. It was stupid, and she blinks at Harvey, embarrassment flushing her cold cheeks. "I'm sorry... Rach said you have a spare key and _that_-"

"Donna, it's fine." He stops her, his palm grazing her elbow when she wobbles suddenly, and he makes a mental note to thank Rachel, glancing down at the nine-inch heels buried in snow. It makes him uneasy, and he stands a little closer, firming his grip. "I was nearby anyway, out grabbing some dinner." It's not a total lie, and she seems to accept it. Though it's hard to tell if she believes him or is just foggy from the alcohol. "Come on... we should get you home."

He tugs gently, but she doesn't move, her eyes welling up with tears again. She doesn't deserve his kindness. She'd been cruel with her words to Thomas, intentionally trying to push him away, and she shrugs herself free to swipe at her tears, stumbling and hitching in a breath when Harvey's hand lands back at her waist.

"What if I screwed everything up?"

It falls out in a whisper and lifts his thumb to sweep away the moisture, trying to pretend the smile forced onto his lips isn't breaking him. "You haven't." He knows for a fact she can fix it because whatever happened, Thomas is a smart guy, and only an idiot would give up fighting for her at the first hurdle. Someone foolish like himself. He'd missed every opportunity, and the regret swells in his throat, making his voice sound hoarse. "You two will figure things out."

"We didn't."

The words hit him, her gaze glossy beneath his, and he knows there's a good chance she won't remember any of this come tomorrow. It's going to be buried beneath a pounding headache and blinding hangover so he lets his hand linger, committing the softness of her skin and all the small lines to memory, taking her in and wishing he hadn't been so goddamn blind to what's been right in front of him. "You know I love you, Donna..." he breathes the confession that had once changed everything between them, willing to risk saying it in the hope that maybe, somehow, it might again. "_Always_." He assures, letting his palm fall away.

Her eyes flutter, not able to fully grasp what he's promising, but she feels instantly cold and shivers as his body leaves hers to hail them a cab. She wants to ask what he meant but pushes the urge down, having already gotten her answer in the years that have rolled by since he first told her the same thing.

He loves her, but it will never be in the way she needs him too.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

Donna groans, a heavy pounding tearing through her head as she wakes to unfamiliar surroundings. A distinct smell wraps around her, calming the immediate panic, and she blinks, opening her eyes to the bright light streaming into Harvey's bedroom.

_Shit_.

Memories from the night before flash through her mind, increasing the tension behind her pupils, and regret clenches her stomach. Rachel had insisted she call Harvey, and the advice was innocent, but tangled in his sheets, she feels trapped and embarrassed, heat flushing her already hot cheeks. She can't remember much of what happened, just that she'd been utterly distraught after her fight with Thomas. Tequila had seemed like a good idea until she'd lost her keys, and she sits up with a wince, deciding that her foggy memories are probably a blessing.

Harvey wasn't supposed to bring her back here. He was supposed to dump her unceremoniously at the door to her apartment and leave, words she's sure were slurred to him during the cab ride, but she'd obviously grown compliant at some point because she's here now, and her eyes catch sight of her dress placed neatly on a hanger.

She glances down at the oversized t-shirt and sweats, hoping to God she'd crawled into them on her own. It's going to be awkward enough when she surfaces, something she considers avoiding altogether, but they have work today, and a grimace tightens her expression as she struggles out from the bedding. Screw decorum, she needs coffee, and her legs wobble unsteadily, silently praying Harvey's already left. It would be the gentlemanly thing to have done, save her from further embarrassment, but when she slowly slides the door open he's sat at the kitchen island with the paper in one hand and a mug in the other, his suit perfectly pressed and not a hair out of place. It adds insult to injury, and when he glances up, soft concern mixing with a slight hint of amusement, she has the overwhelming urge to slap him. "_Don't_."

He bites back the comment on his tongue, raising his coffee in surrender and handing it over as she pads across. "Here." Joking aside, he'd been genuinely worried about her last night. She rarely drinks to excess, and if she does, it's usually because they're celebrating something. Searching for absolution at the bottom of a bottle is more his style, and he stands, sliding over a glass of water and the aspirin he'd dug out. "Take these."

She lands heavily on the barstool, cupping the painkillers with her free hand and tossing them into her mouth, swallowing the pills with a hit of caffeine. When her head falls back down, she doesn't think twice about her words as they slip out. "Marry me?"

He chuckles. "I thought you took care of that already?"

"I had it annulled." She quips, letting the weirdness of the moment wash over her. The fact she's sat in his kitchen, wearing his clothes and neither one of them are daring to bring up the inevitable subject of last night. It's coming though, like a bull charging at something red, and she steels herself, watching as he pours himself a new coffee before his gaze finally lifts.

"You okay?" He asks seriously, returning the pot to the holder, but staying where he is. It feels safer to have something between them, and he palms the bench, reading the hesitation in her eyes as they fall away from him.

She thinks about lying. It would be easier than admitting the truth, but having very obviously crashed at rock bottom, she doesn't see much point trying to sugarcoat it. "I screwed up."

It's evasive but telling. She _never_ makes mistakes, and he does her the courtesy of not bullshitting his way through a response. "That much I gathered." He's in two minds about pushing her, his curiosity at war with feelings that don't seem right to acknowledge. She's hurting, and he pushes back the small, selfish part of him that wants to hear she ended things with Thomas and is staying.

She takes a breath, fighting the regret lodged in her throat to rewind back and face what happened. "Thomas said he was going to postpone the deal with a letter of intent, stay in New York for another six months to give me more time."

She doesn't look at Harvey but can feel his eyes on her, knowing he's processing the information just like she had. A letter of intent isn't a contract, it's a risk, and she stares down into her mug, moisture building under her lashes. "He told me it was worth it, because he's falling in love with me... and I panicked. I said I didn't feel the same and he should take the deal."

The explanation hits hard when it shouldn't. He knew she had strong feelings for Thomas but doesn't think he can handle the reality of hearing her admit she's falling in love with another man. It's too raw, and he places his coffee down, afraid she'll see the slight tremble in his hand. This isn't the same as losing her to another city. It's gutwrenching, and maybe he hates himself, because instead of turning away from the pain, he invites it in with a shaky exhale, "do _you_-"

He stops, physically unable to get the rest out, and when her eyes turn on him, he knows she's seeing straight through his vulnerability.

He quickly ducks his head but the turmoil lingers in his locked jaw, and she swallows hard, something inside her breaking along with him; a heartache that isn't fair. He isn't allowed to do this to her anymore. She'd called him out of desperation but he was the one who'd deemed it acceptable to haul her over to his apartment. He doesn't get to make her feel guilty because he can't process his goddamn emotions, and she calls him out, her voice laced with frustration, "why did you bring me here, Harvey?"

He shifts uncomfortably, digging his fingers into the counter-top, not sure why it matters. She'd been upset, _drunk,_ and could barely stand without toppling over. He wasn't going to leave her and his place had been closer so it made sense. He hadn't thought any more about it, just that he'd felt better knowing she was somewhere safe. "What was I supposed to do, Donna?"

He sounds at a complete loss and it tugs inside her chest. He was trying to do the right thing, she doesn't doubt that, but for all his good intentions, he keeps making everything harder and she gives up with a sigh. "You care, but it doesn't mean anything. I get it."

She turns away from him, and irritation ignites in place of his usual ignorance. She keeps acting like this is all on him, but he's been to hell and back trying to put her needs above his own, and he's just as exhausted of denying it as she is. "Of course it _means_ something, Donna." He runs a hand through his hair, blurting out his frustration, "but what do you want me to say when you're sitting here heartbroken over someone else."

She's taken aback by the honesty, not expecting it, but she bristles defensively. For years she's been waiting for him to open up, give her some kind of hope worth holding on to, and when he couldn't she'd had every right to move on with her life. Thomas had paved the way, a simple and straightforward path until circumstances had forced her to choose, and for weeks she's been trying to cut Harvey out of her heart, but every interaction they have is like a freight train slamming her resolve. Maybe she's falling for Thomas but her emotions are still tethered to the man standing opposite her and for all she knows, six months from now, they still will be. "You really don't get it, do you?"

He looks utterly perplexed, shrugging his shoulders, and she holds his gaze willing him to try and see past the walls guarding his feelings like fort Knox. "There are a hundred reasons why I should leave and be with Thomas, but there's only _one_ reason I can't, and right now I'm sitting in his kitchen, wondering if he's going to wake up and realize it or if he's going to give in and let me go."

His heart hammers against his ribcage, failing to access how to handle the confession. He's still stuck at the same barrier, knowing if he admits what she's asking of him, they can't go back, and he'll be the one responsible. He can't make that decision with Thomas still in the picture, and he swallows roughly, startled by the sound of his phone vibrating.

It's sat where he left it, next to Donna, and his stomach rolls reading Catalina's upside-down name on the screen.

Donna glances from the device up to the flash of guilt that flickers in his expression and is instantly on edge, not sure which she needs him to answer first, her desperate attempt to draw out a real conversation or her nervousness over the unknown contact. "Are you going to get that?"

"It's not important." He grinds his jaw, not sure why the hell Catalina is calling. He thought they'd sorted everything yesterday evening, and he lets it go to voice mail, his anxiety fulled by a text pinging up. Donna's attention flies to it first, her eyes widening, and he tries to reach for it but she's faster.

_Missed you last night, changed your mind yet? Drinks at mine later? - C_

She reads the message out loud, dropping the device like it's scolding her hand, and her stomach twists with nausea as the phone bounces across the marble. She'd just bared her soul to him, _again_, and he's goddamn seeing someone. She was so _stupid_, actually thinking that if Thomas wasn't in the picture, he might have been ready to commit to something between them. It's her own fault for being such an idiot, and she shakes her head, refusing to let the tears burning her gaze fall. "A little heads up before throwing me in your _bed _would have been nice."

He winces, wanting to reach out and erase the pain splintering her resolve, but his feet stay glued in place, afraid to fuel her anger. "It's not what you think."

The feeble to explain crashes into the tension, and her eyes flash up at him. "Really? So you're _not_ sleeping with her?"

Fuck. He doesn't know how to answer because they both know damn well he is or _was_, up until last night. Not that he assumes the detail will make any in-road into her anger. Even if he tries to justify that she's the one in a committed relationship, fling or not, he'd kept it from her, and he does what he can to minimize the damage. "It didn't _mean_ anything."

"_Funny_," she scoffs, choking on the bitterness, "apparently neither do we."

She pushes up and he draws in a breath, arms shaking against the counter-top, but he knows better than to follow her, flinching when the glass panel leading to his bedroom slams shut.

Once she's calmed down, he'll find a way to somehow make it right, he has to because she was wrong. He's wide awake to what he feels- he's just been trying to protect her from it. He didn't want her new life to hinge on his influence, but with the certainty of knowing it has, he can't help feeling a tug of something akin to hope, that maybe somehow he's worthy of her. Or would be, if he hadn't screwed everything up.

He glances at the door, scrubbing a hand over his face, deciding the best thing to do is leave it for now. Instead of confronting her, he grabs his phone and blocks Catalina's number, dialing Ray to come pick Donna up.

He doesn't risk waiting around.

The air is too charged, and he piles on his coat and scarf, heading out, the cold winter morning adding to the numbness spreading through his body. He's on autopilot as he hails a cab, burying his regret so it doesn't consume him before 8am, a new record even for him.

All he knows is he can't lose her, not because of some stupid mistake like this. Catalina had been a distraction, a way for him to try and let Donna be happy, but that's all it was. An outlet for emotions that had nowhere else to go. He's able to justify it, but the look of hurt that had filled Donna's gaze haunts him through the heavy traffic and follows him to the quiet of his office.

Not surprisingly, he's unable to focus on anything other than the minutes ticking by. His eyes keep searching for a flash of red, and nearly two hours later, he's starting to think she might not show when his secretary buzzes to say she's in.

He leaves what he's doing, his stride quick and purposeful as he moves to find her, his eyes traveling through the glass wall, to the cream dress she's changed into. Her hair and make-up are fixed in place, immaculate as ever, and his mind flashes to when she'd first surfaced, wearing his shirt and looking like she belonged in his apartment. The thought leaves a dull ache in his chest, more incentive to push forward, and he steals a breath, exhaling as he crosses the threshold. "Can we talk?"

She doesn't answer, staring down at something in her lap, and he takes another step. "Donna, _I'm_-"

"Harvey." She stops him, fixed on the contents of the envelope she's holding, focused on the photos bunched inside. They're all profile pictures or her, outside the office, at the gym, in front of her apartment, and she pales, her hand shaking as she empties them on the desk.

His eyes fall across the glossy images, all of Donna except for one that was taken last night, and his heart stammers at the intimate moment. He has his arm wrapped around her waist, hand cupping her cheek, and he falters, wanting to physical hurt whoever was watching them, but it's the others that make his blood boil. Times she'd been alone without anyone else around, and never mind hurt, he's going to fucking _kill_ Huntley, the pictures making him sick to his stomach and driving the air from his lungs.

He'd let her down _again_, the evidence staring up at him, and he turns on his heel needing to escape before she sees the sheen of sweat dampening his brow and the panic that's rising faster than he can push it down.

Her legs are unsteady as she rises to follow him, afraid of the fury she'd seen in his expression. She can't even comprehend what she's feeling but knows Harvey's thoughts better than her own right now, and she races behind, catching the glass door to his office as it bounces in her face.

The space still isn't big enough to calm his suffocating anger, and he clenches his fists, fighting the urge to lash out at something, _anything_ that can stand the brunt of a physical release.

Donna flinches, worried he's going to induce a heart attack if he doesn't stop stalking the room. "Harvey, you need to calm down."

"The son-of-bitch was having you followed!" He stops pacing and turns, regretting the aggression when she stares at him with wide eyes.

"I _know_." She snaps back, her skin crawling at the thought of the photos still spread across her desk. She feels violated, like she might throw up, but having a tantrum won't make her any safer and they can't solve this with his fists. "But how exactly is breaking all the furniture in here going to help?"

It's not.

He knows that, and if he's going to take his fury out on anyone, it should be Cahill. The prosecutor is in way over his head, and he reaches into his pocket but fear coils around his anger when he brushes passed his phone to the wallet and keys sunk at the bottom. "What happened to your purse?"

She frowns, not sure why he's suddenly asking, and shrugs. "I lost it, I guess." The bag had been by the floor of the bar. At least that's where she thought she'd left it, but it's hard to recall through the tequila haze blanketing her memories.

"Lost or it was stolen?" He asks, watching the realization slowly flicker across her face. The image of the two of them is proof someone else was there last night, and if they took her things, they have her address and access to her apartment. "You're getting the locks changed and staying with me until we sort this out."

She bristles at the demand, folding her arms rigidly across her body despite her unease. She's not going to take any unnecessary risks but things are awkward enough between them. The last thing they need is to be stuck together in an enclosed space, and a bitter undertone weakens her resolve to forget about the woman he's been seeing. "Don't you want to run that by your girlfriend first?"

"She's _not-" _he stops, knowing it's bait leading to another argument. They're both on edge and need to take a step back, deal with one problem at a time, starting with the tension between them. "It was a mistake, Donna, and it's over."

"Does _she_ know that?"

He tips his head in frustration and breathes out slowly, trying to soften his expression, but it hardens again when a shadowy figure appears behind her and his mouth goes dry in response.

She reads the change and turns, confused and shocked to see Thomas standing there.

"Am I interrupting?" He asks gently, sensing the tense atmosphere as he holds Donna's gaze.

She can feel Harvey's eyes boring into her as well and shakes her head, too overwhelmed to deal with them both at once. She hadn't expected Thomas to reach out after the things she'd said, but he's here, and she silently pleads with him to follow her out of the room. To her relief, he does, and she stops just shy of her office, biting nervously at her lip. "What are you doing here, Thomas?"

"I didn't like the way we left things last night." He admits, candid with the explanation. He hadn't wanted to let her go. Even though she'd been blunt with her words he'd been reluctant to believe them. She's a rational person, who reacts with her head before her heart, so he'd given her some time to turn things over before trying to have the conversation again. Only now he's here, tucked in the corner of a narrow hall with her, she seems even more skittish and uneasy. "Are you- is everything okay?"

She nods, afraid she's going to lose what little composure is left if she answers truthfully. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." He asserts, his gaze roaming over her more thoroughly. She looks pale, her shoulders tensing with a shudder, and he laces careful fingers around her arms growing more concerned. "Look at you, you're shaking. Donna, what's going on?"

She's embarrassed but feels safer just being near him. Harvey doesn't do the comfort thing but Thomas does, and she lets herself lean on him, physically and emotionally. "Someone's been following me, _us_." Though she's alone in the photos, there are ones of her about to meet Thomas and leaving his place. He might not be the target but he has a right to know.

He's not sure he fully understands but can see she's scared and takes the lead, ushering her the few short steps until her knees buckles into the chair by her desk. She points to a pile of glossy photos, and he stiffens, starting to get an idea of why she's so on edge. She's not looking at the camera in any of them, oblivious to its presence, and he spreads them out to get a better look.

"The envelope was here when I got in." She explains, her head swimming and not just from the admittance but also the hangover still drilling through her.

"What happened last night, after you left?"

His voice is tight, his attention still fixed on the images, and she wishes she could tell him she went home, drowned her sorrows in a pint of ice cream and that the story ends there. It's a more delicate version than the one of her completely drunk, losing her keys, and not being able to see straight but she doesn't try to cover up her mistakes. "I felt horrible about what I said to you... I went to a bar, called Rachel, and drank tequila. It was _stupid_-"

"And this?"

She confused as he slides a photo into her view, one with Harvey, and her stomach lurches. She hadn't looked at it properly before and can only vaguely recall the moment but certainly not with the same clarity that's been captured on film. He's treating her like she's the most important person in the world, one hand pressed to her waist, the other stroking her cheek, and she opens her mouth trying to justify the innocence behind it. "I had my purse stolen... I was drunk and he had a spare set of keys. Nothing happened, Thomas."

It's hard for him to believe, the intimate hold planting seeds of doubt, but he trusts Donna and is more concerned by the loss of her personal items. If the person that's been following her has them, then she's not safe in her apartment, and he leaves the picture, moving to crouch in front of her. "You should stay at my place tonight."

She's surprised by the offer, her lips frowning in confusion. She hadn't expected him to move past the photo so quickly, and after what she'd said to him, she's not sure she even deserves his forgiveness.

"Donna, I'm not _mad_, I'm worried." He assures her, running his fingers over her knee and squeezing it gently. He's not jumping for joy that she'd chosen to get drunk and confide in someone else, but he can put his jealousy aside because at least she hadn't been alone. With someone out there stalking her, he just wants her safe, and rolls his head with a sigh, "come on... I'll make you dinner. We can talk."

Her eyes unintentionally flash to the image of Harvey, and she feels the same pull that's been tearing at her for weeks- like she's being split in half. She'd lied to Thomas to protect him but what he's offering is everything she wants; nights spent in, talking, having a _real_ relationship. For the next six months they could work on building their future together or she can give it all up for a man who can only be honest in a rare moment when he thinks no one is watching and she won't remember.

Thomas follows her gaze to the picture, then back to moisture catching her lashes, and hesitates, not sure if he's scared to ask the question or more afraid of getting an answer. "Who is he to you?"

She shakes her head, feeling like the world is falling apart around her, and there's nothing she can do to stop it. "I don't know who he is..." she admits brokenly, "he's someone I keep trying to cut out of me, but I don't know if I can."

Thomas sighs heavily, his palm lifting to catch the tears as they slip free. She's vulnerable right now, _scared_, and he wishes to god he had the same instincts as yesterday, that time could fix things between them. If it was just a matter of waiting, he would, but this is different. Now he knows why she didn't want either of them to take the risk. Because she's worried she won't be able to move on from the man in the picture, the lawyer who looks equally as terrified to lose her.

If his own situation was different, he'd fight like hell to prove she can, but he can't, not at the expense of everything he's worked his whole life to achieve."You can call me anytime Donna. You know that." He swallows thickly, giving her the out because as much as it stings, he respects her for trying to protect his business, for being honest, and more importantly because he doesn't want to see her get into trouble thinking she has no one to turn to. "Promise me?"

"I will." She swipes her eyes forcing a smile, having never doubted a decision more than she is right now. There's so much she wants to say. That he's one of the most remarkable men she's ever met, that she doesn't deserve his compassion and understanding, that she's sorry and cares more than he'll ever know. The urge is overwhelming but the words bundle in her throat as he stands, and all she can manage is returning his goodbye, the door closing softly and crunching the shattered pieces of her heart.

She already misses him, and chokes back a sob, bringing her hand up to cover the sound and compose herself, the damn picture of Harvey silently mocking her from the corner of the desk.

No matter what Cahill comes up with, she can't stay at Harvey's, not now, and she pushes up to find Samantha, making a stop at the bathroom to fix her make-up and calm herself first. She's sure the woman will understand her situation and hopefully be willing to offer her a bed, because she doesn't think she can face anyone else right now.

.

* * *

.

Hours later, the first thing Samantha does is bring out a bottle of wine and Donna's more than grateful, her body sagging into the couch as the blonde tells her to get comfortable. After the day she's had, this is exactly what she needs, some downtime and a chance to forget her problems for a few hours. "I really appreciate this, Samantha."

The lawyer seats herself opposite Donna on a matching chaise recliner, popping the cork and filling two glasses. "So long as you don't start trying to braid my hair, you can stay as long as you need."

Donna's lips curve upward as she accepts the drink, her eyes drifting around the converted loft. The polished floorboards and sleek white oak furniture have a modern colonial feel that's different from what she'd expected. There are books on shelves that look worn and loved, vibrant pieces of art complimenting the cream colored walls and warm spotlights dotted around making the space feel natural and inviting. It's easy to relax and she takes a sip of wine, curling her feet up on the wide cushions. "We can still do our nails together, right?"

"Not unless you want my beautician after you as well." It's meant as a joke but in hindsight, Samantha considers it might be too soon and winces apologetically. "Sorry."

"Please, it's nice not to have people walking on eggshells." Something she genuinely means. After she'd spoken to Samantha and explained her situation, it had dawned on her that the rest of the senior partners should be made aware of everything going on. Robert had taken it in his stride, as had Alex, but Louis had wanted to lock her up in a bunker and throw away the key. Harvey had kept silent through most of the meeting, assuring them all he had it under control, but the tension in his shoulders hadn't radiated confidence. He'd retreated to his office straight after, barely speaking to anyone all afternoon, which she knows means he's preparing for a fight, and she leans her head against her palm with a sigh. "Besides, this is a lot better than the padded cell Louis was gearing up to."

Samantha smirks, aware the man's intentions are well-meant but his execution, as per usual, had been over the top. He wears his heart on his sleeve but while Louis had been busy trying to squirrel Donna away, she'd taken it upon herself to come up with a different solution. "I know someone who might be able to help get information on Huntley."

Donna raises her eyebrow at the coyness, wondering if the 'someone' is anything like Vanessa, the informant Harvey has. "Like a private investigator?"

Samantha crinkles her nose. "Not exactly," she admits, taking a large sip of wine. Her contact deals more in espionage and isn't exactly on the books, but thanks to one crazy night and a particular 'incident' at CBCG in the late '90s, they have a permanent arrangement that suits both of them. She rarely cashes in on it but when she does is never let down, and she's willing to call this one in as a favor. "Say the word and I'll get in touch."

Donna is instantly wary of the ambiguity, fishing for more details before she commits to anything, "this mystery person have a name?"

"Not one they're legally allowed to use in New York." She ribs back, but in actuality is only half-kidding. She knows for a fact her contact doesn't use the name they were born with and she's one of the seldom few people who can prove it.

Donna senses there's more behind the quip and knows better than to underestimate the woman sitting opposite her. In the same way she knows Samantha, like Harvey, is prone to taking risks that most people would consider too high. Which is why, although she's appreciative, she declines the offer. "Promise me you're not going to call him."

"How do you know it's a _he_?" Samantha asks, swirling her wine, but the redhead looks less than impressed, and she tilts her head, reluctantly conceding. "I'm just putting it out there, in case you change your mind."

"And I'm grateful, I _am_," she insists, adding a light warning to her tone, "but the last thing we need is for one of us to end up in a cell next to Stephen."

It's a fair point and Samantha doesn't want to cause the woman opposite her any more stress. She respects the hell out of Donna, and after what the redhead's been through today, she backs down growing a little more serious. "How are you doing with everything?"

Donna fiddles with the rim of her glass, honestly not sure how to answer. She broke up with her boyfriend within an hour of finding out her ex is stalking her. She feels like some kind of walking tabloid but is dealing with it as best she can. "Okay, I guess."

It's not at all convincing, and honestly, Samantha doesn't blame the lack of positivity. It's why she'd suggested reaching out to her contact in the first place. Because as good as Harvey is, he's up against a wall, and maybe it's the wine or the fact it's just the two of them here, but she probes curiously, "you're not worried about Harvey taking this on?"

Donna shakes her head. The two of them might be in a state of flux but her faith in him hasn't wavered. It's similar to when he'd been preparing her defense for the Liberty Rail case. He'd put his emotions aside to protect her. The difference is the last time he'd told her he loved her and this morning she'd been confronted by the news he was seeing someone else, only to be blindsided by the photo of them from last night. Now she doesn't know what to think or where they stand but she still trusts him to take care of the Huntley situation. "He'll fix it."

There's strength behind the resolve and Samantha peers over her glass, having never been sure how to read the relationship between Donna and Harvey. They're as close as two people can be without sleeping together. Both equally loyal and protective, would do anything for each other, and it's not the first time she's wondered why they seem to orbit apart rather than gravitate together. "I'm actually surprised he didn't pull a Louis, try and whisk you off somewhere."

"Does his apartment count?" She drains the last of her wine, her cheeks flushing as Samantha's eyebrows dart up.

"And yet, you're here?" She observes, not asking as she refills both their glasses. It's not in her nature to pay attention to gossip, but she's caught rumors swirling late at night when the hallways are still, and she slides back the drink, pursing her lips together.

"It's complicated." Donna lets the honestly slip, not really sure how else to explain it. Harvey hadn't even asked, just thrown on a metaphorical cape and demanded she stay at his, which had instantly irked her. Was he taking her back there just to spend the evening sat in strained silence, or worse, so they could argue some more about how he cares but won't act on it. She'd been too tired to entertain either scenario tonight, and despite Samantha's curious gaze staring her down, she'd made the right decision choosing to stay here instead. "Harvey needs to focus, that's all."

"_Bullshit_-" Samantha coughs into her fist, leaning further back in the chaise, "he's being emotionally unavailable, and you didn't want to put up with his crap."

Donna bites the inside of her lip, wondering if she should let go and engage her amusement. She's always worn kid gloves talking to Rach about this kind of thing. Maybe because she didn't want to sound pathetic or be coddled, but Samantha's no-shit attitude urges her to open up. "I thought I was the only one in the office who could do that?"

"Please." She doesn't need Donna's mind-reading powers to gauge when the great Harvey Specter is being an ass, "why do you think I don't date inside the corporate world anymore. I've had my fill, trust me."

A genuine laugh bubbles in Donna's throat but she swallows it down with more wine because the truth is, maybe Samantha's right. She's spent over a decade hoping Harvey would wake-up and see what's been right in front of him. She couldn't make things work with Thomas because of it, but she doesn't need to leave NYC to have a fresh start. There are other jobs, opportunities she's passed by because she's been tethered to an idea. If Harvey won't let her go, maybe it's time to cut herself free. "You think I should get out?"

If they were talking about any other man, it would definitely be Samantha's advice, but for all Harvey's 'rules' about not showing emotion, Donna seems to be the exception. Her first fight with the lawyer had been because she'd dared to bring Donna into something, and she can't say whether or not the redhead should wait around, but she does know none of her former partners have ever stood up for her in the same way Harvey does for the redhead. "I think we should order some food."

Donna scoffs at the evasive answer but a small smile works its way around her glass, the stress of the day melting beneath the wine and good company. It's not a place she ever thought to look for comfort but she's glad she turned to Samantha, the woman showing herself to be more than just a colleague. It's a friendship she wishes they'd broached sooner, but no matter what happens going forward, this is something she's gained and is truly grateful for.

.

.

* * *

**AN:** _Woof! This turned out to be longer than I was expecting :P Thank you for all the kind words and reviews! And special thanks to Southsidesister (Darvey_love), who has been amazing! __:D_


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Harvey's eyes lift from his desk, raw and tired, as Samantha strides into his office holding two cups from the coffee cart downstairs. Gratitude flickers in his expression but it doesn't stay long, his jaw resuming its locked position and a curt nod all he can manage. He's too exhausted to fake pleasantries this morning. He'd been up most of the night going through a list of inmate profiles that Cahill had sent through, searching for possible connections to Huntley, and he's pissed that the job landed on his desk. Sean's palming it off, and the only reason he hasn't ruffled feathers about it is because he mistrusts the right people have the motivation to get it done. He's not willing to wait weeks for someone else to prioritize the task, and he breathes out roughly, reaching for the hit of caffeine to wake him up.

Samantha doesn't take offense to his mood, more concerned by the five o'clock shadow dusting his features and the mountain of paperwork that had been there when she'd left with Donna yesterday. It's stacked high, all marked with color-coded tabs, and the only reason she assumes he went home at all is that he's not in the same suit. Which could just mean he had a spare one here for emergencies. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"_Some_." He grumbles, not wanting to get into it. The few times he'd tried to seek refuge on the couch had been pointless, his anxiety jolting him awake every time he'd tried to doze off. He'd manage to convince himself Donna was fine at Samantha's, only to be kept awake by her words in his kitchen, and then Thomas' sudden intrusion at the firm. The CEO's arrival had hampered any resolution, and he'd steered clear of asking Donna what happened between them. He couldn't face the thought of them reconciling, so he'd avoided the issue, drawing comfort from the fact she'd chosen not to stay with Kessler but Samantha instead, and he glances behind the blonde, suddenly alert and sweeping the empty area. "Where's Donna?"

"In Louis' office trying to calm him down. She missed a couple of his texts last night and had about twenty this morning." Samantha folds her hand over her waist, aware both men are worried. Her guard has been up too, but coddling the redhead isn't going to help, and she does her best to reassure him on Donna's behalf. "She's fine, Harvey."

He visibly relaxes and her fingers loosen their grip, empathizing with him. For all the panic Louis is stirring; at least Harvey is being practical and working through it. A tactic that is aligned with what she's been doing. Even though Donna had insisted she leave it alone, her loyalty lies in protecting the people she's grown to care for. Donna isn't just a colleague, she's family, and Samantha pulls out the crumpled up note and the USB that's been burning a hole in her pocket. "I have something else for you."

She places the two items down, knowing the name of her contact will supersede any doubts he has about the authenticity of the drive. "That's everything you need to convince the feds to drop their deal with Huntley."

His eyes narrow, then widen in surprise as he makes out the scribbled handwriting. He's heard of the man but only through extremely elusive circles, and if reputation is anything to go by, what she's offering came at a price even he can't afford and has a cost that makes him uncharacteristically nervous.

"What did you do?"

His gaze flicks up, and he has every right to be wary. She's giving him information to 'persuade' the Associate Deputy Director of the FBI that working with Huntley is a mistake. It's blackmail, but not the standard, garden variety kind. Technically what she's suggesting could be construed as treason, but she's willing to bet he won't blink twice at committing a federal felony if it means keeping Donna safe. "Got you leverage against the Associate Deputy working with Cahill. The case that landed her promotion had fabricated evidence and instead of coming forward, she tried to bury it."

"Shit, _Samatha-_" he flinches, swiping a hand across his face, the reality of her plan sinking in. It's another goddamn Cameron Dennis, except she's talking about convincing Sean to threaten one of the ranking members of the FBI, and he firms his jaw feeling a migraine starting to build behind his temple. It's a solution that could work, landing Huntley back in maximum security, but if it goes wrong, both of them could end up facing federal charges and he blanches at the thought, shaking his head. "How did you even get this?"

"You really want to know?" She smirks, playing fast and loose with the truth. Even if she does wind up telling him the story one day, she doubts he'll believe it, and there are some things better left to the mystery of imagination. "Two words, Axl Rose and Wonderlust cocktails."

"That's _five _words." He deadpans, not even able to wrap his head around the ambiguous clues, and genuinely afraid to open any more doors into her past. For all he knows, she could be involved with the goddamn mafia, but he finds his anxiety settling, the fact that this could help Donna pushing it back down. It might be a risk but there aren't any lengths he wouldn't go to for her, and he palms the drive, making up his mind without any more hesitation. "I owe you, whatever you need."

She's relieved, glad he's going to use the information, and even though she would have done this for Donna regardless, she still banks the favor. "You owe me two, _and_ I get to drive the Telsa."

"If I wind up in prison, you can keep it." He's only half-joking, his gaze darting briefly over Samantha's shoulder again. He assumes Donna doesn't know. Otherwise, she'd be in here to stop him, but he asks the question, needing an answer either way. "Does she know?"

"She made me promise, nothing illegal."

Nothing illegal, just _treason_, he thinks to himself, warring with the thought of keeping it a secret but quickly swallowing his guilt. Donna has enough on her plate to deal with, and he'd rather get it done as swiftly and smoothly as possible, and apologize later. Besides, if the deal does go south, keeping Donna out of it stops her from being implicated in any way, a complication that would only make things worse.

"I'll tell her-" he drops his gaze back down, "_after_."

She surprised he's willing to wait but understands the decision. A few years ago she'd faced a similar situation with Robert and had chosen to go down the same path. Keeping her actions evasive to protect him. He'd strung her up for the stunt afterward but had eventually relented, showing his appreciation, and it's just one of the reasons they're so close now. They have each other's backs, no matter what.

"I'll let you get onto to Cahill."

He nods, but hesitates, quietly clearing his throat.

"_Samantha_..." he waits for her to turn, biting softly on the inside of his cheek. "How's she doing?"

"As well as can be expected." She answers more honestly, a little less dismissive that before. Donna's strong and independent, but anyone would be rattled by what she's going through, and by the sounds of it, the tension with Harvey isn't helping. The fact he's asking and not going to the redhead directly is a cause for concern, and she tries to bridge the gap where she can. "She'd be doing a lot worse if she didn't have faith in you, trust me."

The comment expands in his chest, rendering him silent.

Honestly, he didn't know if Donna _did_ still trust him. Things have become such a mess between them, but hearing Samantha's confidence instills a more profound sense of gratitude toward the blonde. Since Mike left, he's been feeling the loss, particularly with everything going on, but he and Samantha have found their footing and it's a weight off his shoulders.

"I'll get it sorted."

She reads more behind his thankful tone than the words themselves, and she completely understands Donna's struggle. It can be like drawing blood from a stone at times, but she doesn't need more than he's offering. Getting Donna out of this is enough, and she nods, leaving him to do what he's best at.

He picks up his cell, knowing the sooner he can get Sean onboard, the faster this all goes away, and his voice firms with resolve, but the conversation goes about as well as he's expecting it to.

Sean tells him to 'get off the phone before they both get _fucking_ arrested,' and he agrees to meet the man in thirty minutes, somewhere private away from both their offices.

He knows the shit he's about to get them both into but doesn't care.

This is Donna.

Huntley is a convicted murderer.

In his mind, it's that simple, and he collects his things, stepping out with a fast stride and slinking passed her closed door, avoiding all eye contact. If he stops, he's not sure he could lie, and it's cowardly, but he tells himself it's better this way. Hopefully, she'll thank him for it in the long run, and he continues toward the elevators without looking back.

.

* * *

.

Harvey arrives at the edge of the park first, his scarf pulled tightly to ward off the chill, and his feet crunch the small space of snow until he hears an irate voice behind him.

"The _hell_ are you playing at Specter?!"

He turns, jamming his fists into his pockets as he moves to meet Cahill half-way. The man is pissed, but Harvey doesn't flinch. "You said you needed proof. This is incentive to find some." He tugs out the USB, handing it over and watching Cahill shirk as it falls into his grasp.

Sean glares at the object, not appreciating being boxed into a corner. Harvey might not like it, but the information Huntley's feeding the FBI is building their case. If the Associate Deputy is turning a blind eye, it's for the greater good, arresting twenty Stephen Huntley's in return for letting one go, and that's something they just have to swallow. "We're looking into it."

"Bullshit_." _Harvey challenges, squaring his shoulders. "You sent me those profiles because no one is doing a damn thing on your end."

"Which means you _know_ how this works-" he accuses, angry puffs of condensation hitting the air as he tries to argue reason. He's learned from the Mike Ross fiasco that when Harvey sees something as personal, it negates all else, but there's a big difference between one of his buddy's serving jail time and what's happening now. "I can't just compromise an investigation because your secretary is a little camera shy and has your balls in a _vice_-"

"Watch it!" Harvey snaps, his fists tightening on instinct, and he digs them deeper into his pocket to keep from physically engaging the disrespect. Huntley isn't the fucking paparazzi. He's dangerous, and Donna is being targeted. He's not just going to sit around on his hands, waiting for things to escalate before Cahill bothers to do something about it. "Donna is the COO of our firm, and either you use _that-_" he glares at the USB, "or I take it to someone who _goddamn_ will."

Sean curls the object angrily in his leather glove, aware the threat isn't a bluff, and tearing his gaze away to reassess his options. If he doesn't handle the situation right, Harvey is going to bulldoze his way into fucking treason charges and get them both arrested, and he bites down hard on the inside of his cheek, his first instinct self-preservation. "You pull this shit now, that's it." He finds the man's gaze with a hard stare, his warning dangerously low, "No more ships passing in the night. You don't come to me again. _Ever_."

Harvey doesn't flinch, not an ounce of hesitation behind his resolve. "Get it done."

There's a beat between them. A silent recognition of the deal being made, and he turns his head, tracing back along the indents of footprints in the snow.

As far as he's concerned, it's an outcome that suits them both, because he sure as hell has no intention of working with the man after this.

.

* * *

.

It's several hours before Harvey hears anything back from the prosecutor, and when he does, he's not surprised by the in-roads that have been made, including an arrest along with Huntley being moved back to maximum security. He's even less shocked by the revelation Donna's harassment had just been the tip of the iceberg; that Stephen was actually re-feeding information from the FBI back to the people under investigation. If they'd been doing their jobs properly, they would have realized Huntley was manipulating the shit out them, and he's half-tempted to end the call with a bitter, 'you're goddamn _fucking_ welcome,' but he doesn't.

Rather than be angry, relief takes over.

This is the outcome he'd hoped for, and he takes the win, lifting out of his chair to find Donna and tell her the news. He slows as he approaches her office, his confidence wavering as his gaze falls on her through the glass. She looks tired and tense, her eyes a million miles away as she stares vacantly through her screen, and he feels guilty for not having checked on her.

He should have.

He should've done a lot of things differently, and he steels himself, pushing open the door. She glances up at the sound, her lips pursed tightly together, and he stops, standing awkwardly as he breathes out a sigh. "The deal with Huntley is off. He'll be back in maximum within the next couple of hours."

She stares at him, confused. "The _photos_-"

"Just some kid, one of the inmate's nephews trying to make some cash." He explains, wanting to wring the little pricks neck, but just grateful it was nothing more sinister. "The police are charging him and issuing a restraining order."

Her eyes sink closed in relief and flutter open again, finding his gaze but reading more behind it. He's not telling her everything, and judging by how quickly things progressed, she has a bad feeling about his hesitation. "You did something."

It's not a question, and he nods, easing himself further into the room. "You're not going to like it." He says gently, in the vain hope maybe she'll accept it as his answer and let the rest go. She doesn't. Her look blunt and to the point, telling him to get it over with. "I found information on the Associate Deputy Director working with Cahill. It was enough to make her listen."

"You blackmailed her." She winces, angry he didn't tell her about the plan, but more annoyed at herself for not piecing it together. He didn't just 'find' leverage. The fact he worded it that way means he had help, and she can easily guess from who. "And don't you mean Samatha found it?"

"Technically." He admits. If she hadn't guessed, he would've kept the blonde lawyer out of it, but he should know by now Donna isn't someone who misses details. "I'm not sorry, Donna, and she isn't either."

She dips her head in frustration, aware they're two people who don't apologize for their actions, and she's torn, feeling a range of different emotions. They were protecting her. She'd done the exact same thing for Harvey when Cameron Dennis had gone after him, and she'd been prepared to wear any consequences, but this is different. They just committed a federal felony for her, and she bites her lip with a sigh. "How bad?"

"Believe it or not, _good_." He wouldn't go so far as to assume he and Cahill are on good terms now. As far as he knows, they're still persona non-grata indefinitely, but in his opinion, it's worth it. "We're off the hook."

He seems almost a little surprised himself, and she leans back in her chair knowing it means they got lucky. It could have easily gone the other way, and just like he won't apologize, she's not going to thank him from being reckless either, even if she is grateful. "You should have told me."

There's a warning behind her tone, but no real weight to her anger, and he smirks slightly. "You're welcome."

She rolls her eyes, and he shuffles forward a step, the amusement dropping from his features. He's never been good at opening up first. He's always leaned on her decisions, letting her be the driving force, but it's time he stood on his own two feet, and he swipes the tip of his nose, clearing his throat. "I wanted to check on you yesterday... after Thomas left. I should have." He corrects, nervously dropping his hand down to his pocket.

She assumes he's reaching out to ask what happened and is half tempted to brush him off until he can find the actual words, but his vulnerability mixed with her curiosity prompts a faster resolution. "We broke up."

He nods, slow to process the relief that's being masked by his anxiety, and when he finds his voice, he doesn't say he's sorry, because he isn't. "Are you okay?" He asks instead, the concern stemming from pure selfishness. He's tired of hiding behind excuses and needs to know if she's ready to hear what he's spent too long denying them both.

Her lips part slightly, cheeks flushing under the heat of his gaze, and it takes her mind back to the photo stashed away in her drawer. The one with the two of them standing out in the snow, his arms wrapped protectively around her. She hadn't included it with the others, not wanting rumors and gossip to hamper the investigation, but he's wearing the same look now, and her heart skips a beat. "I am."

"Then have dinner with me, tomorrow tonight."

The question is backed by sudden confidence, and there's no trademark smugness behind it. He's asking, not implying, and her first instinct is to say yes, but her second is more cautious. She's been in this position and burned too many times to assume they're both on the same page, and she raises an eyebrow. "Dinner?"

"A date." He clarifies, watching the corners of mouth twitch in surprise, before slipping into a slow smile which eases his nerves.

"I'd like that." She keeps her voice steady, despite the adrenaline rushing through her.

"Good." He matches her grin, almost tempted to suggest they move it ahead to tonight instead, but it's getting late and they're both exhausted. He wants to do this right, give her everything she deserves, and he moves in closer, leaning against the edge of her desk. "You should go home, rest up for tomorrow."

The smugness is back in his expression and it sends a shiver down her spine. They laugh, they flirt, they drink, but this is something new, and she closes her laptop, standing with a smirk of her own. "Remember, more vigorous isn't necessarily _better_."

He chuckles, feeling lighter than he has in weeks- maybe even years- as the air hums between them. He's terrified and exhilarated at the same time, and when she collects her purse, readying herself to leave, he pushes up, catching her hand with a light grasp. "Message me when you get in, okay?"

His touch sparks against her skin, and she swallows with a nod, disappointed when he lets go but not afraid he's about to take anything back. This is happening, and she holds his gaze for a few more seconds, reassuring them both. "I'll see you tomorrow, Harvey."

She smiles, and the warmth spreads through him, his eyes following her until she's out of view. It feels like the missing piece of his heart has just slipped back into place, and it's beating whole again. He's not sure he can wait until she's home to hear from her, but there are still things here he needs to take care of, and the notion drives him to Louis' office and then to Roberts, informing them both Stephen is no longer an issue.

Of course there's more to his giddiness, but his dinner plans with Donna are for the privacy of his own thoughts. Something he won't be entrusting to his secretary again, he thinks, passing Donna's old cubicle. Notably, it's the first time he doesn't miss her in the space.

They're moving forward, and nothing is stopping him anymore. No fear or doubt, nothing as substantial as the ache in his chest to let her in.

It's distracting, and he keeps glancing at his phone until he forces himself to focus on the paperwork stacked high on his desk. The sooner he gets it done, the faster he can leave because he'd joked about Donna needing rest, but his own muscles are bone-tired and strained from a lack of sleep.

When he's down to the last few pages, he can barely keep his eyes open and mutters a curse when the stapler he's using starts punching blank holes. Not to be outdone when he's this close to finishing, he trudges wearily to where Donna keeps her stationary, assuming she won't mind him rifling around her drawer, but he comes across the picture of them standing together, and stops, a different set of emotions washing over him as he pulls it out.

He hates that someone else had been privy to the moment but doesn't regret what he'd told her, that he's going to love her, always, no matter what. The words had bubbled out with no regard for who was around and looking at the scattered people, they're seemingly oblivious. Except for one bystander to the left of the frame who's looking straight at them.

His blood rushes from hot to cold, Catalina's features out of place in the scene, and he swallows hard, trying to convince himself that it's just a random coincidence she'd turned up there, hours after he'd broken things off with her.

The longer he stares at it though, the more uneasy he becomes, their conversation from that night flooding back to him. When he'd admitted to being distracted, she'd instantly pried about Donna, confessing she'd been through his phone, which means she'd had access to all his numbers and-

_Shit_.

His stomach drops, and he pales, returning the picture to its place in the drawer and kicking his feet from the small room.

He'd accused Stephen of harassing Donna long before anyone had been following her, and if Huntley hadn't been making the calls, the surveillance could have been retaliation, not an escalation. Panic grips the thought, and he finds the cell on his desk, the blank screen making his skin crawl with further unease. Donna should have been home by now and dials her number, holding his breath, flinching when it clicks over to a recorded message.

He doesn't care if he's overacting. He'd call the police if he thought it would do any good, but he's tried enough cases to know they're not going to act on a gut feeling, and he prays that's all it is. That he's making up some elaborate scenario where his crazy ex is responsible for harassing Donna, stalking and stealing her keys, and can now get in and out of her apartment anytime she wants. It sounds absurd, and the thought calms him somewhat, but he's still intent on going around there to check and redials Donna, collecting his things and heading for the door.

The repeated voicemail tightening in his chest.

.

.

* * *

**AN: **_Oh no, a cliff hanger! Sorry not sorry ;) Thank you again for all the kind reviews, especially at such a busy time of the year! And to __Southsidesister (Darvey_love). This chapter grew exponentially thanks to her time and encouragement. _

_Wishing everyone the very best for 2020! It's my quest this year to petition AK for some Darvey webisodes! _


	7. Chapter 7

7.

Harvey knocks on Donna's door, the gold numbers rattling under the weight of his fist before he pulls back, flustered and out of breath. He hadn't been able to reach her on the cab ride over, his mind jumping between worst-case scenarios and plausible explanations. Maybe her phone is flat, or she's catching up on sleep. She could be in the shower or have stopped off somewhere to get food? There are a hundred reasons why she might have missed his calls, but despite not having any real reason to panic, he can still feel adrenaline rushing through his body.

After her purse had been stolen he'd insisted on getting her locks changed but doesn't know if she'd gone through with it, dragging his spare key out and frustrated when it fits perfectly in the hole. Truthfully, he's more angry with himself than he is at Donna. They didn't take enough precautions, but he's doing it again, assuming there's something wrong when there's every chance things are fine.

He pushes forward on the brown wood, giving himself access to her apartment, trying to shake himself free from the nerves taking hold.

He's greeted by familiar red walls and artwork he's never paid much attention to before, the images fading into the background as he listens for any sign of movement. His ears prick to what he thinks is a shuffle, and he calls out Donna's name because he doesn't want to startle her.

The silence that greets him in is daunting, but there's a light on up ahead, and he follows it, remembering back to the last time he'd found himself here. It had been right after Donna had resigned and he'd ended things with Paula. Although he hadn't crossed the threshold, he'd wanted to. It had been one of those moments where he wasn't sure who he was trying to punish, himself or Donna. He'd been angry that the end of his relationship with Paula had hinged on Donna leaving. Annoyed that when he'd stood in front of the redhead, asking her to come back, it had taken every ounce of his willpower not to think about the soft, tantalizing taste of her lips parting before him.

Donna had put him in a position he hadn't been ready to face, but the thought of losing her has always been unbearable, and his steps slow as they lead him into her lounge. Technically he's intruding, or would be, if not for the fact that after thirteen years of friendship, his concern is reason enough to invite himself in.

He just wants to make sure she's okay, but stalls when a burgundy dress with cape sleeves shimmies into view. He's always loved the design on Donna, but instead of auburn locks toppling over the fabric, it's tarnished by bleached blonde hair, and his heart wrenches in his chest, his gaze moving passed Catalina to where the woman he's been searching for is sprawled unconscious on the sofa. Her hands are tied crudely in front of her, and he sucks in a breath, feeling wildly out of control as his eyes dart back to Catalina. The person he's been trying to convince himself couldn't be capable of this.

Clearly, he was wrong, the knife in her hand keeping him from making any sudden movements, and he tenses, trying to maintain his composure and stay calm, his gaze lifting from the glint of metal. "What are you doing?"

Her fingers twitch, the shock of him suddenly appearing wearing off as she stands motionlessly in front of him, forced moisture welling behind her gaze. "I wanted to look nice for you."

She takes a vulnerable step back, giving him a fuller view of Donna, and his first instinct is to utilize the open space, but his second is to be cautious about reacting impulsively. Clearly the woman he'd been sleeping with is unhinged, something he'd failed to notice with copious amounts of alcohol flowing through his system. In hindsight, this might even be the first time they've interacted sober, and he's ashamed to admit it, but that doesn't excuse what's happening now.

All he wants to do is to get to Donna, and he raises his arms slowly, appealing to Catalina in the least confrontational way possible. "I need to check on her."

She chokes back a sob, furrowing her brow and letting uninhibited tears fall across her cheeks. "It was an accident, she wasn't supposed to get hurt."

He doesn't buy the explanation for one _goddamn_ second. Everything about this screams it was premeditated, from Donna's purse being stolen to the dress taken without permission. She'd broken into Donna's apartment, subdued her, and when he'd walked in, she'd been wielding a knife. It doesn't get any more obvious than that, but he schools his features, using every acting ability he has. They're not in court, and he doesn't know a single line from Shakespeare, but he relaxes his shoulders, pushing down the fear caught in his chest and drawing on instinct.

"I know that."

He tries to appeal to any sense of reason she might have. He's not well versed in the art of literature but has read over a thousand case files that all stemmed from fantasy, and he banks his actions on feeding her delusion. "I'm a lawyer, I can fix this." He steels himself, praying to god he can. "I just need to know what we're dealing with."

She falters, her gaze darting to Donna and back to his, which hasn't wavered since he arrived. "You'd do that... for me?"

"Of course."

His blood boils with fury but he forces his expression to stay neutral. Someone like Mike, even Louis, would have a better chance of pulling this off. He's always challenged his opponent's in the face of adversity, but he'll do anything to keep Donna safe, and plays along. "I want to help you, Catalina. You can trust me."

She seems to give in, taking a step back, and he doesn't give a second thought to anything else. His focus switches to Donna, his knees crashing down beside her, and his heart hammers against his ribcage as he checks for a pulse. It's there, soft and steady beneath his touch, and he stretches up, gently threading his fingers through her hair.

"_Donna_?"

She doesn't stir, something warm oozing over his hand, and he draws it back finding his skin coated with blood. The sight makes him want to ret,ch but he swallows the urge, wiping the crimson against his trousers. It leaves a stain darkening the fabric but he doesn't care, lifting his palm to her cheek and more forceful in his attempt to wake her. "_Hey_, it's me... I'm here."

She whimpers, her breath hot against his wrist as she struggles to free herself, the movement jarring inside him. She's scared and he doesn't blame her, his focus shifting to undo the knots rubbing against her skin. "It's okay, I'm getting you out of here."

"Don't untie her."

He flinches at the harsh demand and thinks about ignoring it but remembers the knife and stops, his eyes fluttering shut in defeat. He won't risk taking any chances, not with Donna so close to him, and he tilts his head, forcing confidence into his response. "At least let me call an ambulance."

"No." She's adamant, jealousy rolling through her as she towers above them. "I heard you..." she challenges him, "you said you love her."

Because he does, the notion sucking the air from his chest like a vacuum. He'd give anything to get Donna out of this, and firms his jaw, lying through his teeth. "As a friend." His gaze darts to Donna, hoping if she can hear him she knows everything he's saying isn't true. He's doing what he has to, trying to keep her safe, even though it's breaking his heart.

"She's important to me, but I'm not _in_ love with her." He forces the words out, but Catalina still doesn't seem convinced, and it takes all his willpower to lift his body away from Donna, acting as a shield between her and the blonde as he weighs up his options. Catalina is smaller than Donna, the burgundy dress loose on her frame. He could easily take her but the weapon in her hand is an immediate deterrent. If he misjudges or she anticipates the move, it could be a fatal mistake, and he keeps his focus fixed on a passive approach. "I didn't give us the chance we deserved, and I'm sorry."

For the first time in his life an apology comes freely. He'll say whatever he has to, feeling the powdery texture of Donna's blood drying on his fingertips. Every second that passes is one she can't afford to lose, and he forces a smile. "Let me take care of this, then we'll go to dinner, just the two of us."

It is what she's been waiting to hear, and her arm drops, the knife hanging limply between them.

He takes the show of surrender as permission and tries to control his fear as he leans back in front of Donna. The first thing he does is recheck her pulse, his hand shaking until the steadiness once again calms him.

She's only in this mess because he'd been so goddamn stupid, but he blinks back the sharp sting burning behind his eyes, at war with whether or not to go through with his promise to Catalina. He can't stand the thought of leaving Donna by herself to wait for help but wants the blonde as _fucking_ far away from her as possible. The woman is bat shit crazy and he takes a breath, forcing himself to concentrate on the best course of action.

Donna will be fine.

She's a fighter, and he smoothes back her hair, his heart lurching when she nestles into his touch with a sniffle. Even unconscious, she's seeking him out, and guilt fuels his soft reassurance. "You'll be okay." He whispers hoarsely, a deep regret pooling inside his chest.

He should never have let her leave tonight, the feel of her hand from earlier seared into his memory. He'd wanted everything to perfect, not realizing that waiting a few extra hours would cost her so much. If he'd just pulled her into his arms and held onto her like he'd wanted to, none of this would be happening. He should have trusted his instincts and slips out his phone, ready to call an ambulance when something wet suddenly closes over his airways.

He struggles against the intense chemical burn firing through his nostrils, relying on every strength he has to fight it, but can't. It's too overpowering, and darkness hazes his vision. Once again, he finds himself helpless, a sweet acidic taste scolding the back of his throat, and his eyes grow heavy with the weight of having fucked up. He'd underestimated the threat to Donna and loses consciousness, his last thought praying there's a way to get her out of this.

* * *

**AN:** I know, another cliffhanger. I'm the worst ;)


	8. Chapter 8

8.

Harvey wakes to the sound of cupboard doors clanging, the noise jolting through his grogginess and rattling around his throbbing headache. He tries to move but can't, finding his wrists secured behind his back, and he groans when the overpowering smell of garlic assaults his senses. It turns his stomach, and he blinks open heavy eyes, sat where he'd passed out, propped up against the couch next to Donna.

She's still lying unconscious, and he fights through his exhaustion, taking in her pale features and pulling on the ropes digging into his skin. There's no give, the knots wound too tightly, and he looks for his phone, not surprised to find it gone from where it had dropped on the floor. He quickly scans the room searching for something else that might be of use but there isn't anything.

The furniture edges are too blunt to cut through the binds, and his gaze slides back to Donna, a rough dryness burning his throat. He's completely powerless. Near enough to see she's still breathing, but he may as well be in another goddamn city for all the good being close to her is doing.

He doesn't understand what the _fuck_ happened. He'd thought he had a handle on the situation, and when Catalina's movements suddenly seem closer, he cranes his neck to get a better look.

She enters the lounge, holding cutlery and a crystal water jug pressed into her arms, wearing a bubbly smile that intensifies his anger.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?"

She flinches, startled by the harshness, but it doesn't sway her trajectory. "We're having dinner, just like you said."

He flinches as she lands the items down on the dining table, next to some candles and glasses she'd already dug out. He'd promised her a meal assuming it would keep Donna safe, not put her in more danger, and panic clamps around the mistake. "This _isn't_ what I agreed to," he bites out, "Donna needs-"

"What about what _I_ need?"

She fires back, fury flashing her behind her eyes, and he takes a breath, afraid to offend or provoke a reaction he can't control. Usually he'd be in his element antagonizing things, but Catalina's not a prosecutor, and this isn't a courtroom. It's a reality she's built, perceiving Donna to be a threat, and the only truth she's going to buy is whatever he can convince her to believe.

"You're right..." he tries more calmly, "but she's my _friend_, and I'm worried about her. You can understand that." He emphasizes the relationship between himself and Donna, not sure if Catalina sees through the lie or not. She doesn't say anything, just turns her back, and he watches nervously as she fills up a glass.

Her approach toward him is slow, revealing nothing, and he tries not to recoil when she kneels on the ground by his feet.

"Here." She pushes the tumbler up to his lips. "Drink."

He obeys the instruction, trying to keep her attention away from Donna.

It's a smart move, the liquid refreshing as it travels down his throat, clearing some of the fog clouding his thoughts. If Donna was drugged that could be the reason she hasn't regained consciousness yet. It isn't much of a comfort, but he holds onto the hope while Catalina removes the glass, placing it on the coffee table. "Thank you." He softens his expression, having no other choice but to follow her lead.

"I'm sorry it had to be like this... but she has to understand what's between us."

Her gaze darts to the redhead, and he tenses, forcing himself to relax. "She will, I'll make sure of it."

The assurance steals Catalina's focus back to him, but bile laps in his mouth when her hand lifts, stroking her fingers along his jawline. He's sickened by overwhelming images of them being intimate together, and when she kisses him, it's like a parasite probing his mouth. He can't pretend it isn't her this time, too sober and pissed off, but he sinks into the unwanted advance. He just has to endure it long enough to get himself free.

"You know, there's more I could do..." he murmurs the suggestion against her lips, "you just have to untie me."

He prays like hell it's the right approach. She's in complete control of wherever this goes, can do whatever she wants to him, and his chest lurches with relief when a shrill buzz sounds from the kitchen stopping her palms descent.

"There'll be plenty of time for this later, _after_ dinner."

She climbs off him with a wink and he's instantly relieved to be rid of her weight but disheartened by the failed plan.

He still needs a way to help Donna, and waits until Catalina's out of sight before tugging at the bonds again- not caring as they pinch painfully against his writs. He tries rubbing every way he can, but it's a useless endeavor, and hopelessness stirs in the pit of his stomach, the feeling so consuming he nearly jumps out of his skin when Donna moans softly beside him.

He's worried, but also aware he'd loosened her ropes earlier. Not enough to remove them but maybe she can wriggle herself free if he can rouse her.

"_Donna?_" He whispers, hoping the noises coming from the kitchen are enough to disguise his voice. She groans more loudly, unaware of the danger they're in, and he quickly tries to break through her sleepiness. "_Hey, _shh... I'm right here."

"Mmmm... head, hurts."

She mumbles into the cushion, her eyelids struggling to flutter open, and he hates having to rely on her like this, when all he wants to do is make sure she's okay. He should be the one keeping _her_ safe, but he puts the hero complex aside because he needs her to do this for both of them. "Donna, you have to stay with me."

His forcefulness permeates the headache drilling through her, and she wants to tell him he's an ass and go back to sleep, but something isn't right. She can't remember why he's here and attempts to move, panicked by something trapping her hands. It's enough to force her awake, and she pulls at the rope, confusion flashing behind her gaze. Vague snippets follow- someone being in her apartment when she'd arrived home, but the images are distorted, and a sickly feeling of unease crawls beneath her skin.

He can see that she's scared and muddled, probably about to ask what happened, but they don't have time for him to explain it. She just has to trust him, and he nods down at her wrists. "Can you get out of those?"

She reads the plea, the ask almost desperate, and her faith in him is stronger than the anxiety rushing through her. She'll do whatever he needs her to but she's at the wrong angle to work the knots. She has to sit up and her body trembles with the effort, the room spinning around her.

"Easy, take a breath." Concern tightens his expression, afraid she might pass out again, but her determination proves him wrong. She manages to keep herself balanced, pulling at the bonds until they start to unwind and he's never been so relieved to feel the jolt of her breath when she sinks behind him.

Once this is over, he's never letting her out of his sight again.

She winces at the angry red marks that have cut through his skin, realizing he's been fighting like hell to get himself free. She doesn't know what happened while she was unconscious but is immediately alarmed he may have been hurt. "Are you okay?

The gentleness behind her worry floods his panic, and he swallows hard as her fingers brush against his.

"_Fine_." Guilt chokes the assurance.

The worst he'd gone through was a spontaneous lap-dance. She'd been physically assaulted. The two events are even comparable, but he swears nothing else is going to happen to her, his shoulders jerking to help speed things along.

She can feel the frustration rolling off him but he's only going to do more damage if he doesn't stop struggling. "Hold still."

The tension eventually eases and he shimmies the rest of the way out, turning quickly on his knees to face her. She falters with the fast movement but his hands reach out to steady her. "I've got you." If he had his way, he'd never let go again, the simple contact he's been deprived of hammers through him, but he'd been complacent about his freedom before and isn't making the same mistake again. "Go into the bathroom, lock the door, and stay there."

He's not asking but she doesn't move, afraid to go anywhere without him. She still has no idea what's actually going on and isn't going to leave him to fend for himself. "No."

"_Damnit_, Donna." He doesn't understand why she has to be so infuriatingly stubborn. He can't risk losing her. It's not an option, and he's on the verge of forcefully dragging her when a smash sounds too close to be in the kitchen. He doesn't wait to see what caused the commotion just pulls Donna up, pushing her protectively behind him.

Again Donna's slower to react, reaching for his arm to steady herself and feeling his muscles strain beneath her fingertips. She doesn't recognize the woman standing in front of them but he obviously does, and she stays holding him, scared of what he might do if she let's go.

Catalina ignores the bolognese pooled in a broken mess by her heels, directing her fury at the redhead's tight grip. "You _bitch_!"

"Catalina, it's over." Harvey stares her down. The only thing stopping him from aggressively approaching her is Donna's hand at his elbow. There's no knife this time. The only way the blonde can threaten them is by using words and he takes the same approach, a fit of heated anger simmering beneath his outburst. "I swear to god if you ever come near her again, I'll do more than just call the police."

Panic flickers across her face, challenging his bluff. "You're lying."

"Landline is right behind you." He's a gambling man and always has been, placing the bet without faltering. He doesn't know if she'll lash out or run, but when she does the latter, his instinct is to chase after her. She needs to be held accountable, thrown behind bars or placed into a psychiatric facility- he doesn't give a _shit. _She has to face charges but is hampered by Donna's grasp. "Let me-"

"_Harvey_."

The breathless plea steals his rage, stopping him from going after Catalina, and he turns just in time to catch Donna's knees as they buckle.

He's torn by what to do, but Donna will always be his first priority and he guides her to the couch, his eyes filling with concern. "Are you okay?"

She is, now that she knows he's not going to do something stupid.

"I just need a second." She swallows the dizziness swimming through her, still struggling to piece everything together. As soon as he'd uttered Catalina's name she'd recognized it. His caller ID had flashed up with the woman's identity that fateful morning in his kitchen. This wasn't about Stephen or revenge, it was about jealousy, and she fumbles over the obvious. "She's your ex."

He flinches, the choice of description not one he'd choose but he has no other way to explain it, regret churning in his stomach. "Donna, I am _so_ sorry." He's expecting hurt or anger to flash in her gaze and doesn't understand when he's met by light humor.

"For having terrible taste in women? That's not really your fault." She seeks out his palm, lifting it to her cheek and leaning into the touch. He takes the weight, easing the strain in her neck, and she sighs. He didn't set out for any of this to happen and the guilt in his gaze is more than she can stand. He'd made some bad choices but he'd also put his life on the line to fix them, and her brow furrows, wondering how he'd figured it all out. "How did you know?"

"I found the picture in your drawer. Catalina was in it and knew something wasn't right." He's quick with the explanation, still hung up on why she's so ready to forgive him. He should have guessed sooner, or not been so fucking careless too begin with. Twelve years of sleeping with women who were just notches on his belt and he'd nearly lost the one person he cares about the most because karma had finally decided to shove a boot up his ass.

He ducks his gaze and she follows it, wanting to reassure him he has nothing to be ashamed about, but her eyes slip to the burns slashed across his wrists, and she needs to make sure he's really okay first. "Did she hurt you?"

"Donna, _stop_." He breathes out, shrinking back from her concern. All it's doing is driving the knife in deeper. Catilina had hurt him but not in a way that can be seen. She'd gone after the woman he loves and that's worse than anything else she could've inflicted upon him. It's going to leave a scar, and the only thing more damaging is the threat that's still out there.

"I should call the police."

He pushes up too quickly and Donna flinches, knowing the situation has to be taken care of but needing him close right now- not pulling away. Harvey doesn't do the comfort thing, he withdraws. It's instinct, and she wraps her arms around her waist, beyond tired and fighting to control herself.

She's isn't even fully aware of her tears as they start to escape.

She just feels numb, and when the couch dips beside her she's startled by Harvey's hands tugging her into a tight hug. Despite her surprise she relaxes into him, sniffling through her embarrassment, but making no attempt to crawl out of the safe cocoon. "_Sorry_." She apologies, because it feels like the right thing to do, but the regret only strengthens his hold.

"Don't you _dare..."_ he whispers softly, "I'm here, okay?"

He feels her nod and forces down his guilt to at least give her this, selfishly stealing his own comfort from the embrace. He'd told her he'd never let anything happen to her and he'd failed to keep that promise.

He doesn't know how he's supposed the get passed that but she's here in his arms, and right now, that's the only thing that matters.


	9. Chapter 9

9.

Harvey meets the police at the hospital, trying to stay focused and keep himself calm while Donna is in seeing the doctor. She'd refused an ambulance but he'd challenged her stubbornness, making sure her head wound received proper treatment. Drugged or not, she'd been bleeding when he'd found her, a detail he doesn't leave out as he walks the authorities through what happened.

He goes back over everything leading up to the attack, the phone calls, Donna's key being stolen, and he makes sure to bring up Stephen Huntley's involvement. He doesn't care whether the surveillance was provoked, it's still prevalent information, and he flinches when the officers ask for Cahill's number to verify the story. The prosecutor is going to ballistic when he learns the truth, but Harvey doesn't give a shit.

He just needs Sean to corroborate the timeline- which he does.

The men in uniform assure him there's enough cause to put out an APB and bring Catalina in for questioning, something that comes as a relief. They still need to find her, but at least they're doing something, and when they leave, he spends the rest of his time waiting, toying with whether or not he should call anyone.

Mike is at the forefront of his mind, but it's late and there's nothing the kid or anyone else can really do. Donna wouldn't want them worrying, and he slides the phone back in his pocket, flagging without his best friend's support. Instead, he sits trapped alone replaying the night over as his anxiety drills behind the sequence of events. All this because he'd run out of some goddamn staples. He's sick to his stomach thinking about what could've happened had he not gone into her office, and can't see past the guilt blurring his vision, waves of panic leading him closer to the edge of an attack.

He knows Donna is close by somewhere, but not having eyes on her isn't helping, and he swallows hard, palming his thighs around the blood staining his trousers. There's more on his shirt from where he'd been holding her, and he's ready to pass out or throw up, not sure which, when he hears a soft voice above him.

"Sir, is everything alright?"

He forces his gaze up to the nurse with a tight nod. If he can find out Donna's okay, he will be too. "I came in with someone... Donna Paulsen." He manages to get his breathing back under control. "I haven't heard anything."

She smiles sympathetically, placing a light hand against his shoulder. "I'll see what I can find out."

Her heels click across the hospital waiting room, and he swipes the droplets of sweat from the back of his neck. Donna had been fine when they'd gotten here. A little woozy, but she'd been coherent and talking. He doesn't have any reason to assume there's something wrong, but dread clenches his chest when the woman returns a few minutes later.

"Miss Paulsen was sent up for some scans. They're still waiting on the results, but I'm certain it shouldn't be too much longer."

He grits out a forced smile, the woman's assurance useless even though he thanks her anyway. She's just doing her job, but when 'it shouldn't be too much longer' turns into another 45 minutes of torment slowly crawling passed, he's on the verge of losing his mind, only kept sane by Donna finally emerging.

He's dizzy as he stands, blinking through the haze to get to her. "Are you okay? They were taking so long, and I didn't _know_-"

"I'm fine." She cuts off his concern and reaches out, not sure if she's trying to reassure or steady him, but he brushes her away, and she tilts her head with a sigh. She'd told the doctor she didn't need any scans or ex-rays, knowing Harvey would be driving himself crazy with worry, and she swallows a rush of guilt. "I'm sorry. They kept saying I'd be in and out quickly, wouldn't believe me when I said how impatient you are." She tests the waters with a gentle smirk, relieved when his lips almost twitch in response, and this time she sneaks her fingers up, giving his arm a light squeeze. "I'm okay, Harvey."

"Okay." He repeats the word, mulling over what it actually means. "As in?"

"Some stitches and a mild concussion." She gives him the official diagnosis, a little hesitant about revealing any more. The doctor had said someone should keep an eye on her, and she can't exactly go back to her place, but Harvey's just as exhausted as she is. She doesn't want to add to his stress by asking him to be her babysitter for the night.

"Donna, you're coming back to mine."

He must read something in her gaze because he doesn't leave the matter up for debate and she drops her hand. "I know," she answers quietly, "I just... are _you_ okay?"

She looks up expectantly, searching his eyes for the truth, and he stiffens, breathing in and brushing off the concern. "I'm fine." He repeats the same assurance back to her, her uncertainty only adding to the weight of his failure. Worrying about him is the last thing she should be doing, and he quickly shuts down any further discussion about how he's feeling. "Come on, we should go."

She follows him out to the taxi rank, not sure what to do with the tense silence as they climb into the nearest car. When she'd first learned about Catalina she'd been angry with him. Pissed he was seeing someone else, even though in hindsight she'd had no right to be. She'd been with Thomas and they were both just trying to navigate their way through, but she can feel the regret emanating from him when he's in no way responsible for Catalina's actions. Watching him suffer, trying to hide it as they make their way to his apartment is heartbreaking. Every few blocks a ragged breath heaves from his chest, not loud enough for their driver to hear but it cuts through her, and she's tempted to say something but doesn't want to bring it up in front of a stranger.

Instead, she waits until they're in the safety of his apartment, standing awkwardly in his kitchen before broaching the subject.

"It's wasn't your fault, Harvey."

The words wash over him, and he firms his jaw. They're both exhausted and this isn't a conversation he's interested in having right now. "Donna, _don't_."

"So you're just going to stand there all night and sulk?" She challenges, folding her arms across her stomach. He obviously doesn't want to talk but he's not the only one trying to deal with what happened tonight. She's trying to make sense of it too, but she can't do that if he's going to keep shutting her out. "How is that going to help?"

"I _slept_ with her. " He fires back, angry that she's pushing him and not thinking about his response. "She went after you because _I..._ "

He stops abruptly, trying to get a handle on his emotions, and expelling the rest of the explanation as a huff of frustrated air. If he lets go now, he'll fall apart in front of her, and he can't pile that on top of everything else. "Tell me again how this _isn't_ my fault. " He mutters under his breath. He can't expect her to pick up the pieces after what she's just been through, and he turns away from her straining his arms against the sink.

She watches his shoulders tremble with the effort to keep himself upright, but she's more scared of what will happen if she doesn't ask the hards truths. Afraid that he'll use this as another excuse to push her away instead of confronting what's between them. "Because you what?"

He stays silent, unable, or not wanting to admit it... and she honestly doesn't care which it is. Less than 24 hours go he'd stood in front of her with such conviction, a determination to move them passed blurred lines and misunderstood intentions, and now he can't even look at her. He's rattled, she gets it, but these are the times they need to rely on each other, and if they can't, then nothing is ever going to change between them. "Why did you sleep with her?"

He tenses, her tone patronizing in the face of what's obvious. Clearly his feelings had been the catalyst, and he squeezes his eyes shut, still refusing to turn around. "You _know_ why."

She wants to recoil from the same explanation he's been giving her for too long. She's beyond tired of trying to decipher it and takes no shame in provoking him. "Was it good?"

He does a double-take, finally craning his neck around. "Excuse me?"

"The sex?" She asks blatantly, deliberately pressing his buttons. She knows him. He responds to anger above all else, saying what he might regret tomorrow to protect himself now. She doesn't want to be the aggressor and is dizzy with nerves, but steels herself, taking the stance. "Was it worth almost me losing me, over?"

His fingers bite into the counter, and his head swings down away from the harshness. She's picking an argument and he could fight back just as hard, admit the crude details- that he'd only gotten off by thinking about her, but he can't. The thought of rehashing every detail is more painful than giving his ego a boost, and his voice wavers, spilling out in a low warning. "Donna, _stop_. I can't-"

"What, give me a straight answer?" She accuses, not letting him finish. She isn't trying to punish him. She wants to show him, he hasn't lost anything. That they're in the same place they were before Catalina showed up at her apartment, but his shoulders remain impassive, unmoving. He's not listening, and she edges along the kitchen island, her head spinning from adrenaline or the concussion- she isn't sure which, but it doesn't really matter. Getting through to him is more important than both, and she steadies herself squaring her shoulders. "Or maybe I'll go outside. Wait until Catalina shows and ask her."

The dig ricochets through him. He can take anything she's ready to dish out but not the thought of her being in danger again, and he snaps around, flashing his gaze at her. "You think this a _goddamn_ joke?"

She doesn't, meeting the pain behind his eyes and flinching, her own resolve close to breaking. "No, Harvey, I _don't_." She's all too aware of what could've happened had he not shown up, but she's looking at the ordeal as a way to move them forward. He's using it as another reason to doubt them, and she softens her eyes, pleading with him. "I get she's in your head but I'm standing right in front of you. I'm _here_, all you have to do is see it. "

The comment steals his breath, the truth of something so simple binding his anger.

He could have lost her tonight, but he didn't. She's real, staring at him with flushed cheeks and impossibly wide eyes that make him forget anything else. His feet drive forward without consent, hands gripping her waist like she's the only thing that matters- because she _is_, and he crushes his mouth to hers, pouring everything he has into the kiss. Her fingers lace around his neck, grazing the fine hairs as she opens herself up to him, and his fear melds with desire, drowning him in the sensation that might never be enough. It's perfect, _she's_ perfect, and he holds her tighter, his heart aching for more.

He sucks on her bottom lip, his breath filling her lungs, and the same desire to have him closer itches beneath her skin. They've waited long enough but her head is spinning from a lack of oxygen, the toll of everything she's been doing to keep them afloat hitting her at once. She has to stop him, and slides her palm to his cheek, panting as she draws back.

She smiles, and it makes him worried not sorry. He can feel her trembling and doesn't know if it's from the kiss or something else, his hand firming at her back. "You okay?"

A warmth spreads from her toes to her fingertips as he holds her securely. This is all she's ever wanted. For him to let go and accept what's between them but she's also nervous, afraid the moment will blur like it has in the past. She doesn't want to risk losing it, and tries to keep the intimacy light. "After that kiss, what do you think?"

Her eyes are glassy as they blink up, searching for something he can't identify, but he just needs to know she's all right. That the effects of her concussion aren't more severe than she'd led on. "I'm serious."

"So am I."

Her tone is teasing, but there's more behind the playful amusement and in a rare role-reversal, he reads what she's trying to hide, and he softens his expression. "_Donna_... I'm not taking anything back." She nods, still seemingly unsure, and he finds her hand lifting it to his chest. He's never been good at choosing the right words but adrenaline pumps them out because he needs her to know that however they get through this, they're doing it together. "You're in here. I couldn't get you out, even if I wanted to."

She can feel his heartbeat against her palm and fights the moisture clouding her gaze, giving him a watery smile. "Since when did you become a romantic?"

He reaches to sweep the hair back from her face, almost wishing he was, but the label won't stick because he's just saying what's true. Only now she knows he's not going anywhere, he holds her gaze more seriously. "You sure you're okay?"

She nods, a little light-headed but more from being overwhelmed by the event that led them here. It's alot to take in, and they need sleep but she has to wash the reminants of the day off first. "I could use a shower."

His eyebrow hikes up at the suggestion, and she shakes her head. As much as she'd like to stay wrapped in his arms, seeing each other naked won't do anything to tackle their exhaustion. "Harvey."

He suppresses his fleeting amusement, reluctantly loosening his hold around her. It's probably better not to invite temptation in, and he keeps his hand at the small of her back, guiding her through to his bedroom.

She leaves him with a reassuring smile, and when the bathroom door closes behind her, he exhales slowly, at odds with being on the other side. He feels empty without her pressed against him, pinpricks of anxiety starting to crawl beneath his skin. He tries to ignore the feeling, going in search of clean clothes but all the task does is force his attention to blood spotting his shirt and pants.

He reminds himself she's only a few feet away, that she's safe and for the most part unharmed, and he pushes down the guilt he's still not able to completely shake. He won't let it destroy the one good thing to happen tonight, still tasting her on his lips and feeling the weight of her body pressed against his.

It carries him through until she emerges, wrapped in a towel, and he's suddenly able to breathe more freely.

Her lips curve sheepishly, and he's drawn to her, bundling up his clothes and skating his thumb over the curve of her shoulder, stealing comfort from the gentle touch.

She shivers, holding his tired eyes. He's with her but more vacant and she doesn't know if it's from exhaustion or the fact he'd been alone with his thoughts but she pushes it gently. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah." His mouth lifts in response to the concern. "There's some sweats on the bed. I won't be long."

He drops a kiss over her forehead, leaving her to get changed, but when he finds himself under the hot spray he doesn't honor his promise to be quick. He feels trapped there, scrubbing at his hands until they're red-raw and his eyes sting with unshed tears. He has no intention of letting them fall, but they do anyway, grieving another time in a different life where the night could have turned out differently. He mourns the regret so he can move passed it because Donna needs his strength, not the weakness cracking his chest, and in a moment of hammering clarity, he suddenly craves her company more than isolation.

He turns off the faucet, composing himself and still wet as he slides into his clothes.

A few seconds later he pulls the door open, his eyes immediately searching for her, and he stills at the sight of her fast asleep, swallowed up and dwarfed by his pillows.

It's exactly where she's supposed to be, he thinks, moving to his side of the bed to check on her. He knows what to look for in someone with a concussion; sudden changes in breathing, a fever, vomiting and anything out of the ordinary. He'd sported too many simliar injuries playing roughly as a kid and flattens his palm against her forehead. She's cool beneath his touch, turning towards him and he quickly removes his hand not wanting to disturb her.

She'd been coherent and talking, no reason she shouldn't be allowed to sleep, but it's concern and not chivalry that keeps him from joining her. He's not taking any chances that her condition might worsen, and he quietly drags across a chair, grabbing the book from the nightstand to keep himself awake.

He dozes off a couple of times, but when the darkness outside grows lighter, causing her to stir, he sits up more alert. He's hasn't always been in tune with her needs but he is now, a faint smile settling on his lips when she groggily flutters her eyes open, asking what time it is.

He's neither here nor there with specifics.

"Early..." he insists, keeping his voice quiet so not to disturb the stillness, "you should go back to sleep."

She frowns, taking a moment to catch up and confused by why he's not in bed with her. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." He shrugs, lifting the novel for show. Even though he's re-read the same paragraph at least fifty times, he's not technically lying, but she looks unimpressed with the answer and he sighs. "I'm fine, Donna."

She doesn't buy what he's saying, pushing through her heavy veil of tiredness to take in his exhaustion. Right now she doesn't care why he's being stubborn. She just needs him close and wriggles back, giving him plenty of space as she pats the mattress. "Get in."

He glances at the opening, the warmth beckoning him, but he doesn't give in to the urge to crawl in beside her. He's done trying to hide the way he feels but is conscious of moving things along at a pace she's comfortable with. "You sure?"

She raises an eyebrow, surprised by his hesitation. "Nervous, Romeo?"

He opens his mouth and closes it again with another look of apprehension, followed by a slow exhale, and she feels bad for teasing him. "Harvey, I'm _sure_."

Her smile leads him forward, his body sinking in beside her and it feels like heaven as he settles, laying a few inches from her face. She grins, shuffling closer and he slides his hand over her waist, checking just for good measure. "This okay?"

She nods, the question out of place coming from a man who's licked whipped cream off her body and she slips her leg over his, hooking herself closer. "This is better."

He relaxes his muscles and she whispers that they both need to get some sleep.

She's under no illusion that tomorrow is going to be easy. They have to talk to the police again, she still needs to give a statement, _and_ they have to deal with her unsecured apartment... but lying with him like this, she feels safe and able to let go of her fear.

He's going tp beside her through all of it, and that's all that she needs to face whatever life is going to throw at them next.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN:** Rated M

* * *

10.

Donna closes her eyes, taking a deep breath as she inhales a hit of caffeine that's long overdue.

After an exhausting afternoon, she's not sure what to feel. Speaking to the police had been emotionally draining, and returning home had left her rattled and lost. With Catalina still evading authorities she hadn't felt comfortable there, even with Harvey by her side. He'd organized to get the locks changed while she'd packed a few items, but even that had been a daunting task. It was apparent her things had been rifled through, her sense of identity pursued, and when they'd gotten back to the condo she'd showered and changed into Harvey's clothes instead of her own.

She'd joked about him running out of sweats soon but he'd insisted she looked better in them anyway, tiredness winding through his smile.

He'd been an anchor throughout the day, not once losing his patience with the situation. His frustration had sat simmering beneath the surface, and she's grateful it hadn't emerged. Her anxiety had already reached breaking point several times and she jumps when his hand comes from nowhere, resting against the small of her back.

"You should be drinking tea."

She shoots him a disapproving glare.

"_Sorry_." He brushes an apologetic kiss against her temple. They're perfectly safe in his apartment but he should have known better than to sneak up. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay." She softens her features with a sigh. He didn't do it deliberately and is probably right, caffeine isn't helping her nerves so she relinquishes the cup, handing it over. "How was Mike?"

He takes the drink surprised she's giving in so easily, and his mouth twitches but he lets the bemusement slide. "Kid was ready to jump on the first plane out here." He sets down his phone, regretting he hadn't trusted his gut and called from the hospital.

Mike was pissed, annoyed he'd had to hear it all from Rachel first, but the young lawyer's reaction had mellowed once he'd stumbled through his concern to ask where Donna was sleeping in the one-bedroom apartment. The rib had put them back on form and he'd happily confirmed precisely where she's going to be spending her nights; beside him, right where she belongs. Waking up with her bundled in his arms had been everything, the push he'd needed to get them through all the police formalities. It had been difficult to keep himself in check, growing increasingly annoyed with their lack of action. They'd even had the gall to tell him that until Catalina's found, there's nothing more they can do, advising him to stay vigilant and be patient.

He's trying, for Donna's sake, but it's testing his resolve, and he sinks his head over the coffee, taking a sip and shrugging. "We could always go up there for a visit?"

_Get out of the city_ \- is what he actually means, and her expression wavers at the casual suggestion.

He's been the calmest she's ever seen him today, something she'd needed earlier but now it's just the two of them she's wary about how he's handling everything. Usually, he would never back down from a fight, and to her, leaving sounds a lot like running. If he's really considering going to Seattle then it's because he's afraid and she understands why. She's worried too, but they have jobs and commitments here, things that outweigh a short term fix.

_"Harvey."_

She doesn't have to say anything else, he reads the look on her face and lowers his mug with a sigh. She's right. It's not a permanent or thought out solution, but it's an answer to the dull ache in his chest- the need to have her somewhere safe until this is all over. "We know what she's capable of, Donna."

He's not trying to sound the panic alarm just yet but Catalina is dangerous and unhinged, images of her wielding a knife still fresh in his mind and clouding his judgment. He hates that the memories are making him vulnerable, leading him to second guess everything. As far as he can see, not putting Donna at risk is the only _right_ thing, but he also doesn't want to screw up their new relationship 12 hours in. It's not his nature to ask for help but he doesn't have the answers and drops his gaze shamefully. "I'm scared if we stay, it's going to be the wrong call. That you'll wind up getting hurt... but I don't know what else to do."

She's never heard him admit to being scared and even though she knew he was, it's like a wall coming down between them. If he can trust her enough to be this open then they'll get through the rest and come out stronger on the other side. "Yes, you do."

She takes the cup from his grasp, setting it down and gently taking hold of his hands."Your instincts are the reason I have faith in you, Harvey. If you really thought we should go, there'd be a bag packed by the door already." He huffs in acknowledgment of the truth, but there's still worry creasing his brow, and she catches his gaze with a soft smile. "I know you want to protect me but we take care of each other, okay? That's how this works."

He's in two minds about wanting to tell her she's wrong. That under no circumstances is she _ever_ to take a bullet for him like she'd once suggested, no matter how metaphorical her words had been- but he's also never felt this grateful. Not so long ago he didn't think himself capable of being loved unconditionally, and the feeling swells inside him, leaving his chest with a slow exhale. "You also know you're perfect, right?"

"I do." She grins, pulling him closer and placing her lips against his in a gentle kiss. It's meant to be a slow, comforting gesture, but his soft groan invites her to seek more. He opens up to the exploration of her tongue, and she lets go of his hands, the innocent moment quickly descending into needy as she slips her heel around his calf, nudging him in between her legs.

He presses there with a low growl, his palms lifting to either side of the counter so he can deepen the kiss. They were sharing the same coffee but the vanilla tastes better in her mouth, tantalizing his senses and he hums his appreciation.

She slides her foot up higher with another tug and he grows harder between them. He has no idea how far she intends to take this but a point of no return is rapidly approaching, and his knuckles turn white against the marble edge, his breath coming out in a pant when he separates them to find her gaze.

She swallows, her heart pounding at his hesitation but his eyes are impossibly dark, fuelled with lust and her hands close tightly around his biceps. They flex beneath her touch and she almost whines with the need to have them engulfing her. "Don't stop."

It's like hitting an un-pause button. His shoulders drop, his mouth moving to her neck and she sucks in sharply as his palms slide over her body, scorching her skin through too many layers of clothing. They're everywhere, cupping her breasts, skimming her spine and she gives him complete access, arching her back as she grinds against him.

He tries to ignore the sensation but the increasing friction sends his head spinning, the tightness in his trousers straining as she keeps him trapped there with her leg.

"_Donna_." His voice is strangled as he thumbs her knee, loosening the grip she has. If she doesn't slow down he's not going to last long, and he tries to distract her, sliding his hand roughly beneath her shirt and colliding with a lacey bra. The fact she's wearing his clothes on top of it does nothing to alleviate his burgeoning need, but he forces himself to focus on her instead.

She whimpers, her nipples hardening under his attention and she helps him remove the faded t-shirt working on his sweater next. It hits the floor leaving him bare chested and he moves in, making her yelp when he pushes her exposed back against the cold counter. It's hard to keep her balance and she palms his chiseled front, breathing hotly against his lips. "Bedroom."

He doesn't have the willpower to consider any other option and claims her mouth, pulling her legs around his waist so he can hoist her up off the stool.

She's scared she's going to fall and locks her arms around his neck but he doesn't falter, navigating them both without any difficulty. At times she forgets he boxes before most people are even awake, but she's reminded of it when he lowers her onto the mattress, his abs clenching as he bends to remove her slacks.

He slides them off, fixed on her long legs and his gaze rakes up to the matching red underwear on show. She'd anticipated him coming over last time and hadn't been wearing any, robbing him of the chance to remove them. Now, he's determined to make up for the fact and strips down to his boxers watching her slide slowly along the bed. She bites her lip seductively and he doesn't waste another second, prowling his way over her body to kiss her passionately.

It's not _just_ about sex.

He could have lost her the other night and is overcome by the need to worship every inch of her, licking and sucking each freckle as he slowly makes his way to her breasts. He leaves them trapped behind the lace, flicking his thumb under one of the cups and teasing the other with his mouth.

She arches into him with a moan and he slips his hand beneath her spine, expertly undoing the clasp before she hits the mattress again. He helps shrug it off but doesn't stray from his task, enamored by the way they bounce outside of their prison. He has no intention of rushing away, but she bucks her hips demanding his attention move lower, and he smirks, indulging the request.

She can feel the curve of his mouth against her ribcage, the soft kisses stirring a rush of goosebumps along her skin and driving heat straight to her core. She'd been more than ready for him in the kitchen, and her heart hammers as he skims her stomach, his fingers falling south to tease lazy stokes over her panties. His head moves to join his hand and her chest hitches when he doesn't make contact. Instead, he trails his tongue along the inside of her thigh, apparently determined to torment her.

When his thumb finally slides beneath the elastic, toying with her wetness, she whimpers, bucking against him and straining for more.

He steals his hand away to remove her underwear, give her what she needs, and he buries his mouth between her legs, licking his way up and flicking his tongue over her sensitive spots. The sound she lets escape jolts his swelled erection and he dives in deeper, the taste of her coiling low inside his stomach. The urge to be inside of her is almost maddening but a new determination takes him over. This is something he can control, and he drives her to edge and back just to prove he can, relishing the way she writhes against his mouth.

She's begging him with her body but he slows down again and somewhere in the recesses of her memory she recalls that verbally pleading will only prolong the torture. He's as cocky in the bedroom as he is everywhere else, and her arms shake unsteadily as she forces herself up, reading the confusion in his gaze. This isn't a one-off thing. As much as she loves the euphoria of foreplay, she just wants to feel connected to him and smothers his mouth, her hand dragging down to his boxers and gripping him with a soft squeeze.

"_Donna_-"

He chokes on the sudden move, a guttural sound forming around his body's demand to stay in control

"Lie back down."

She neglects the instruction, releasing him but only so she can have his full attention. She'd let him take the reigns if she thought that's what he needed, but it isn't, and her fingers dance across his chest, leading him away from overthinking. He can't escape what's happening outside this room, and holding back is just another way to punish himself. Now, more than ever, he needs to let go and be in the moment with her, and she softly grazes her hand against his cheek. "I'm right here."

The gentle reminder stirs something inside him, an unprecedented need to prove she isn't going anywhere. He's spent so long ignoring what's been in front of him seeing it is still an adjustment, but he _feels_ it, and surrenders himself, clasping her fingers and forcefully finding her lips.

The sheer power behind the kiss makes her knees weak and her body caves beneath his guidance, meeting the mattress fluidly as his hands nudge open her thighs. He's clearly done with teasing, entering with a slow thrust that makes her quiver around him. He sets a steady pace hitting perfectly inside her, and she hooks her leg around him bringing them closer.

He grunts at the added depth, his thumb moving to circle her clit in sync with the rhythm, and she gasps, her fingernails biting down into his shoulder when he increases his speed. Her walls flutter, and he buries a tight groan at the hollow of her throat, not sure how much longer he can hold on. The sound vibrates through her as his cadence gives way to messier, faster thrusts. He's close but won't let go until she does, and all it takes is a strangled plea against her ear and she's falling over the edge, her muscles contracting and pulling him along with her.

Her name slips out at the same time he spills himself, and it echoes through waves of pleasure that leave her dizzy and struggling to catch her breath. He's still sheathed inside her when his hips collapse down, and she feels blissfully protected by his weight, the warmth behind his smile nearly just as powerful as her orgasm had been.

"You're incredible." He marvels, still not sure how she's always able to rewire his actions to meet his needs. In this case _their_ needs, and he leans on his forearms, sinking himself into her gaze.

There's no hesitation behind her voice as her fingers brush his jaw. "Believe me, I _know_." The last time had been different, his mouth working to please her and accomplishing the goal, but so he could prove a point; that he was good at sex. This was about so much more. Two people understanding each other, because more vigorous isn't necessarily better, and she grins smoothing down the hair at his neck. "Next time, I'm not going to stop you."

The soft touch sends a shiver down his spine, and for once, he ignores the indirect banter, his words slipping out freely. "Thank you, Donna."

Her brows lift curiously. "For what?"

He slides his hand through her hair, relishing the softness. He's never done this before, been so candid with his thoughts, and maybe that's why she seems confused. He's not giving her time to catch up, but he's not scared or embarrassed to say what he's feeling. "Making it this easy to trust you."

Her cheeks flush at the compliment. He's always trusted her but has never been this open or vulnerable about admitting it, and she pulls his mouth down to her lips with the silent promise that she's always going to have faith in him.

No matter what life decides to throw at them, this is forever.


	11. Chapter 11

11.

_"Donna?"_

_The office is quiet as Harvey pads his way through it. There's nobody around, the only sound coming from the shuffle of his feet. It's late and not unexpected, but the door to Donna's office is open, and he instinctively smiles. "Are you ready to-"_

_He stops, his heart jamming in his throat at the sight of her passed out on the floor._

_"Donna!" He drops to the ground, he's knees jarred by the impact, but he absorbs the pain, his hands frantically trying to stop the blood pooling around her. It seeps through his fingers, the warmth oozing out beneath the pressure he's applying._

_She moans, and he lifts his gaze to her fluttering eyelids. "It's going to be okay." He promises, not sure how. There's too much of her life force escaping, and his vision floods with moisture. "Hang on, just stay with me."_

_She coughs up a trickle of red, the color bright against her blue lips, and he lets go, moving to cup her cheek. She needs to know he's here. He's not leaving her alone and chokes back a sob as he keeps her head steady. "I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."_

_She leans into him with a gurgle, struggling to breathe, and he can't think. He doesn't know what to do except hold her. She's slipping away gasp by gasp, and pain ricochets through his chest, tearing him open from the inside-_

Harvey wakes with a start, dripping with sweat and taking too long to adjust, even with the city lights streaming into his bedroom. Donna is curled beside him, fast asleep, and he swallows hard, realizing it was just a nightmare.

He wipes his brow as he lifts the blanket, his hand shaking as he struggles out from underneath it. The whole scene had felt too real, like something he can't escape, and he clambers off the mattress. Dizzying spots manifest in the darkness, but he makes it to the kitchen and runs the tap, pouring himself a glass of water that spills mostly down his chest. More lands on his t-shirt than in his mouth but the cold shocks him, sobering the rising panic attack.

Donna's okay.

No one can get inside the apartment, she's fine_._

The thought helps calm him, and he sets the drink down, glancing at the fluorescent time on the oven. It's the hour he'd usually be awake for a run anyway, a habit he's gotten out of recently. Something he'd chosen to stop doing when he'd found out Donna was dating someone. He'd prefered to drink through his regret, and guilt compacts the adrenaline rushing through him. If he'd just faced up to his feelings instead of avoiding them none of this would be happening, and the urge to start training again, go out and physically release his emotions, becomes almost suffocating.

He doesn't want to leave, but Donna _is_ safe here.

The night staff have a detailed description of Catalina, and they'd always gone to her place, not his. He'd never even mentioned his apartment number, which means any worry he's feeling is based solely on paranoia. It's enough to drive him to the nearest drawer, and he digs through it, pulling out a pen and piece of paper. In the unlikely event Donna wakes up before he gets back, he doesn't want her worrying, and he places the note on the fridge, the white sticking out like a sore thumb against the black enamel. There's no way she could miss it, and he re-enters the bedroom, quickly changing into his exercise gear and tugging on a pair of sneakers.

He manages without turning the light on, and she doesn't stir, which isn't surprising. The ordeal with the police had been exhausting. Although she hadn't openly voiced her unease about going to her apartment, he'd sensed it. The moment they'd stepped back inside his condo she'd seemed to relax, and he takes a moment, fighting the flashes of his nightmare to appreciate that she's here, tucked in his bed and a million miles away from their earlier stress.

He isn't so lucky, but the call to do something about it beckons him to move, and as soon as his face hits the outside air he feels better, like he can breathe again.

He sticks in his headphones and starts off slow, keeping a steady pace to the music and warming up his muscles so he can gradually build momentum, but he quickly loses patience with the sensible tactic.

He needs to stop thinking and just run.

He flicks through his playlist for a faster track, feet pounding every conflicting feeling into the pavement. It's the distraction he's been searching for, and he relishes the burn as it sears through his legs. Donna's teaching him to let go of control but this is his short-term way of taking it back, doing something to achieve a tangible result.

It's the freedom he's been craving, not from Donna but from himself.

If he can exhaust his guilt, he will, and takes the side-streets to avoid stopping, sucking air into his lungs and heaving it out again. He's spent years following his own path, forging ahead in isolation, save for Jessica and Donna. They've guided him, and his trust in them is unwavering, but handing the reins over to _anyone_ else- letting the police and Catalina dictate what happens next, is a blow he can't process.

It rings in his mind, relentless, as the blocks pass by and a lack of oxygen blankets the memory of Donna lying prone and helpless. He pushes himself harder, the images disappearing under a white haze until he eventually doubles over, struggling to recall his own name through the dizzy euphoria.

He boxes when he's angry but runs to test his limits, feel the wild beat of his heart hammering over everything else, and he gulps in desperation, reaching for the nearest steady surface.

The brick wall feels powdery under his fingertips, grounding him, and he stands, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

He feels lighter and not just physically. Now that he's forced out the panic crawling beneath his skin there's a way back home, down a road that isn't wracked with nightmares. The only desire he has is to be holding Donna close and drowning his exhaustion in the warmth of her body.

It motivates him to turn around and he's drained but determined with his strides.

The sun is just beginning to crest the horizon when he reaches the building, and he pulls out his headphones checking the time. He was gone a little over an hour, and he slips the phone back in his pocket, making his way up, and surprised to see the light on when he steps through the door.

He moves further in and his gaze lands on Donna. She's sat curled up on the couch, her eyes red from crying, and concern coils in his stomach as he throws his keys on the counter. "Donna, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

He drops down into the space beside her, confused when she flinches away from his touch.

"You _left_."

The accusation takes a moment to register and his chest tightens as he reads through her anger. She's shaking, afraid, and had he known she didn't feel safe in the apartment he _never_ would have gone anywhere. All he wants to do is reach out and comfort her, and the fact she won't let him stumbles his reassurance. "Nobody can get in here. I made sure- "

"I wasn't worried about _me,_ you idiot." She swipes her eyes, frustration at war with her relief. Not 48 hours ago he'd been held hostage by a mentally disturbed woman, and she can't fathom why he would have risked going out, putting himself in Catalina's crosshairs.

He doesn't know what to say, opening his mouth and closing it again. The thought he might have been in danger hadn't occurred to him. He's easily twice the size of Catalina, could overpower her if necessary, which given the time of day hadn't even been a factor. He hadn't been thinking, but the last thing he'd ever intended to do was to make Donna worry. "_Hey_... " he offers an apologetic smile, "I'm right here."

She hates that he's throwing the words back at her but the truth behind them cuts through her anger, though she isn't ready to let it go completely. "You scared me."

"I know." He doesn't scrounge for a defense. The old Harvey would have, always on edge and putting his ego first, but he's learning to lean on his mistakes and inches himself closer. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

The apology seems genuinely sincere and she gives in to the need to hold him, sliding her hands around his shoulders and pulling him closer, burying her face into the crook of his neck. He grips her tightly, closing his eyes against the soft tresses of her hair. Few things can compare to the way he'd felt when he was outside running, giving himself a few moments reprieve, but holding her like this is one of them. The difference being, it's not something he ever wants to outrun or escape.

She sighs, breathing in the droplets of sweat clinging to his skin. She'd been so distracted by her fear she hadn't thought to question why he'd left. If it was just a matter of him getting in a daily cardio workout she could have rectified that, but the joke disappears on her lips, concern turning her mouth instead. "Are you okay?"

She separates them and he swallows, not sure how to answer. Physically he's in better shape. He'd pounded out the anxiety conjured by his nightmare but he doesn't want to talk about the vivid images that had driven him to leave. They're still too unsettling, but he works his way around a compromise.

"Bad dream." He admits, curling his fingers more tightly around her waist. "I needed to clear my head, that's all."

It's not a lie, but she can tell whatever had haunted him during the time she'd been asleep was rattling. She could push for more of an explanation, insist he should have woken her, but rather than force him, she treads with baby steps. He'd told her where he was going and was honest about why he'd needed to leave. It's clear he's trying to find a middle ground so he can move along at his own speed, and she just appreciates he's being this open.

The least she can do is meet him halfway.

"You left me a note on the fridge."

It's said with gentle amusement and a huff spills from his lips. "And you've always said I can't be domesticated."

She squeezes his arm with a smile. "Maybe you just needed the right woman in your life."

He knows she means it light-heartedly, but to him the words are so much more. She's the _only_ woman he's ever needed, and he wishes it hadn't taken him so long to see it. He's not going to get everything right all the time, she probably won't either, but he's never had so much belief or confidence that two people can find their way together.

"I love you."

It breathes out easily, and her chest swells under his soft gaze.

She loves him too and murmurs it back against his lips as their breaths mingle, her body falling into his lap as he tugs her closer. She runs her fingers over his damp joggers, not discouraged by the wetness but worried about the cold seeping through his running clothes. "You should shower."

He smirks, more than willing if she is. "Join me?"

What do you think?" She hooks up an eyebrow and grins as he captures her mouth again, his palms sliding under her thighs to lift them both off the couch. This time she doesn't worry about him making the distance to the bedroom and chances doing everything she can to distract him.

It might be the earliest she's ever been up on a Sunday but now they have the full day together, she doesn't plan on wasting a second of it.


	12. Chapter 12

12.

"We're going to be late." Donna glances at her and Harvey's reflection in the mirror as she fixes her earring in place. He's standing behind her, chin resting on her shoulder, and she smiles warmly as his fingers tighten around her waist. Yesterday, she would have encouraged the distraction but the weekend is over, and if they don't hurry themselves along, they're going to miss the Monday morning staff meeting.

He ignores the look she flashes him, burying his head into the crook of her neck and grinning just below her ear. "Have you always smelled this good?"

She shivers and he can't help the smirk that quirks his lips. After returning from his run the previous morning he'd thought himself incapable of any more physical exertion, but she'd teased his body into releasing so many times during the day it had created a whole new threshold for his stamina. She'd wiped the images of his nightmare, replacing them with gentle caresses that he'd been all too eager to return, and he isn't ready to come down from the high and face reality just yet.

"I have." She arches her neck away from him, turning in his embrace so she can keep things from getting out of hand. "It just took you this long to notice."

Amusement glimmers in her gaze and he clasps his fingers together at the small of her back. They've moved beyond awkward moments and are exactly where they're supposed to be, but that doesn't mean he isn't sorry for how long it took them to finally get here. "I noticed." He breathes in, closing the door on too many missed opportunities. "I just wish I'd come to my senses sooner."

She smooths her thumb against his jaw taking in the smooth skin. It's the first time he shaved since last week, too many other things distracting his usually regimented routine, and she misses the stubble but doesn't let the absence distract her. "It's okay… I was worth the wait."

More than she realizes, he thinks, pressing a kiss to her smirk.

Her hand slips around his neck, tickling the fine hairs above his collar, and he lets out an involuntary sigh when she separates them. He never thought he'd be this comfortable in a relationship but has no shame admitting exactly what he's thinking. "You know, Louis would understand if we told him we need another day."

"For what, exactly?" She asks, not sure if he's serious but his grip doesn't relent, making his answer clear, and her face flushes under his warm gaze. "Harvey."

The gentle warning floods some sense back into him, and even though he'd had other ideas in mind when he'd suggested they stay home, his tone becomes a little more serious. "You sure it's a good idea?"

She reads the change in his expression, and even though she's not thrilled by the idea Catalina is still out there somewhere, the best thing they can do right now is let things go back to normal. The office is just as safe, if not more secure than his apartment, and she fixes him with a smile. "I am."

He accepts the answer, breathing out slowly, and she slides her palms up tugging the lapels of his jacket. "I will miss this, though."

She sways her hips and he's not sure how he's going to make it through an entire day not being able to reach out and touch her when the urge strikes. He should be used to it, having kept his distance for so long, but now he's allowed, it's like his instincts are trying to make up for lost time. He doesn't want any more barriers between them but is afraid of pushing too quickly.

"You want to tell people?"

He isn't surprised that she beats him to the conclusion, but he lands at the same destination with a casual shrug. "Sure. Why not?"

Her rule about not sleeping with the people she works with comes to mind, but for different reasons than it has in the past. She has no doubt their relationship is solid or there'll be a problem continuing in their professional roles, but she is concerned about how it will be perceived. She worked hard to become COO, and the achievement had nothing to do with the fact they're sleeping together now, but gossip spreads fast in the corporate world. Rumours can be cruel and she doesn't want this used against either of them at any stage down the line.

"Hey." He brings her attention back with a small tug. "If you want to keep this just between us, that's okay, too."

She considers it, thinks about the night she stayed over at Samantha's, and the conversation with Louis before she'd told Harvey about Thomas. She doesn't want to lie to their friends. She's happy and wants to share that with the people they care about, even if there are consequences later on, they weather them like they always do, together.

"I want to tell them.' She smiles, quirking an eyebrow. "Besides, your wandering hands are probably going to get us caught out, anyway."

He chuckles, leaning in and rumbling the sound against her throat, "you _like_ my wandering hands." He slides them purposefully along the curve of her spine, grinning as she pushes her hips in closer, and he could easily get lost in moments like this for the rest of his life. But before he can fully immerse himself, a loud knocking reverberates through the condo. He's not expecting anyone and pulls back sharply, confused and on edge. She mirrors his expression, eyes pooling with worry, and sweeps the hair back from her face, brushing a soft kiss against her temple. "Stay here."

She ignores the instruction, giving him a three-stride head start so he doesn't realize she's following. He reaches the door first, pulling it open and a flash of blue sets her mind at ease until the uniformed officers barge in aggressively.

"Mr. Specter, you're under arrest on suspicion of grievous bodily harm. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future."

The words wash over Harvey as his wrists are yanked roughly and locked in a pair of cuffs behind his back. He doesn't give a shit about his rights because he didn't _do_ anything, and angrily cuts off the spiel. "Would someone tell me what the _hell_ is going on?"

The female officer stands in front of him, eyeing her partner over the lawyer's shoulder. They'd been ordered to keep information to a minimum, and she follows the script the FBI gave her. "Catalina Barnes was admitted to hospital yesterday afternoon. We have CCTV footage of you leaving this building shortly before the attack took place, and your DNA was found at the scene."

He glances at Donna whose expression is filled with concern, but her gaze doesn't hold the slightest flicker of hesitation. She knows he didn't do what they're accusing him of, and her unwavering faith calms the frustration pulsing through him. In the very least, if what they're saying about Catalina is true then Donna is out of danger and that's his primary concern. His second is getting himself out of this mess. "Call Samantha, get her to meet me at the station. It'll be okay."

She nods, flinching as the officers force him out of the apartment before she can say anything, reassurance dying in her throat as the door slams shut, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Her heart hammers, pounding through the quiet stillness until her senses slam her back to reality, and she moves shakily in search of her phone.

Harvey had been angry and riled, close to snapping the night Catalina had threatened them, but the fights he's had over the years were never premeditated, and she knows he has too much integrity to ever lay a hand on a woman. There's not a slither of doubt in her mind that he's innocent, no matter how bad it looks. He'd come back from his run tired and exhausted, not wearing the face of someone who'd been out committing a serious crime, and she leans heavily over the counter-top, dialing Samantha's number.

He didn't do this.

They just have to find a way to prove it.

.

* * *

.

The clock on the wall ticks relentlessly, the sound bouncing around the walls of the interrogation room, and Harvey tugs frustratedly at the cuff attached to the desk. The furniture is bolted down and they took his phone, keys and wallet, leaving him with no way to signal or find out what the hell is taking so long. He hasn't been officially proceeded but has been sat waiting for nearly an hour, the irritating reminder of the seconds passing by the only noise in the suffocating silence. It's slowly driving him to the brink of insanity, and his stomach churns with the notion that something isn't right.

Samantha should have been here by now.

If nothing else, he has a right to two phone calls, and when the door suddenly flies open, he straightens, flanking the man who enters with a steely glare. The expensive suit and demeanour of his stride tells Harvey the guy's not a cop. Judging by the confident approach he's somewhere higher up on the corporate ladder, but Harvey doesn't flinch, not one to bow down to figures of authority. If anything it pisses him off more because this shit-show is a lawsuit he could turn over in his sleep. "I'm not saying a damn thing until my lawyer gets here."

"Mr. Specter. I'm agent Landon Harris from the FBI." He drops a pad and pen onto the metal table, lowering himself into the empty chair that's available. "Your _lawyer_ is currently being detained, answering questions pertaining to an incident that involved blackmailing our department's Deputy Director."

_Shit_.

Harvey firms his jaw, the words hitting like a punch to the gut. He had nothing to do with Catalina's assault, but he _did_ convince Cahill to leverage the information Samantha's contact found which as a result, landed Stephen Huntley back in maximum security. He knew it was a bold move, and there were risks involved, but he never imagined the consequences would unravel around pending assault charges. It's too perfectly timed to be a coincidence. This has to be connected to something else, but he's not in any position to bluff and takes the gamble instead. "What do you want?"

"To have a little chat. Off the record." Landon eyes him up and down, a smirk ghosting his lips. From what he's heard, Harvey's arrogance is a force to be reckoned with, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying holding all the cards.

The glimmer of cold amusement makes Harvey bristle and he grows more conscious of the weight enclosed around his wrist. He feels like this is merely a stay of execution and tests the theory, yanking up the chain. "Is _this_ really necessary, then?"

"You tell me." He challenges, ready to start pushing buttons. "Is it true you and your former secretary, Miss Paulsen, are currently engaged in a romantic relationship?"

Donna's name hits a nerve straight off the bat forcing Harvey to swallow a low growl. "That's none of your _goddamn_ business."

"It's motive."

"The _hell_ it is."

The aggression fires out quickly like Landon suspected it would. For someone who has a reputation for never losing, Harvey seems easily tripped up by the redhead, which he fully intends to exploit. "Miss Barnes broke into Miss Paulsen's apartment, drugged and assaulted her, and then showed no concern for her well-being during the time you were there. You're saying that didn't make you the slightest bit angry?"

Harvey grinds his jaw, images from that night flashing hotly through his memory. Of course he'd been mad. Right alongside feeling livid, panicked and downright terrified. That doesn't make him a criminal. It shows he's fucking human, but he keeps his mouth clamped shut, realizing the agent is trying to provoke a reaction from him.

"Can you explain the nature of your relationship with Miss Barnes prior to the evening she attacked Miss Paulsen?"

Heat flushes beneath Harvey's collar and his fingers twitch with the need to loosen the knot tied around it.

He doesn't move.

Not giving Harris the satisfaction.

"We dated briefly."

"You were sleeping together." Landon corrects smugly. He's well aware of the details, having gone through all the reports and statements the local police have on file. He did his homework and raises an eyebrow. "Are there any other women you're currently 'dating', Mr. Specter? Aside from Miss Paulsen?"

"_No_." Harvey glowers at the insinuation, refusing to let Donna's integrity be disrespected. Catalina had been a mistake, a lapse in judgment that he's paying for, but he's done playing games and is over whatever the hell charade this is. "We're done having this conversation."

They're not finished, not by a long shot, but Landon humors the lawyer's ignorance. "I just have one last question."

His voice carries smoothly, making the hairs on Harvey's neck prick into his skin.

"Do you have a personal vendetta against Mr. Stephen Huntley?"

The line of investigation swings to the other side of the field and Harvey clenches his fist below the table, blunt nails biting into his palm. "No, I _don't_." The hell he doesn't. He hated Stephen before he'd found out about the man's crimes, and Harvey doesn't give a damn if the surveillance on Donna was a result of his incorrect accusation. If he ever finds himself alone in a room with the convicted murderer, grievous harm is going to look like a misdemeanor.

"I'm glad to hear you say that." Landon palms the empty writing pad, sliding it back towards him with a shit-eating grin. "Stephen said to tell you, no hard feelings."

The man pushes up and Harvey stiffens at the implication Huntley's somehow involved in this, his blood running cold as he snaps at the man. "Excuse me?"

Landon turns around, clicking the pen in his hand. "Oh, did I not mention… we're old friends." He watches Harvey's facade slip and squares his shoulders. "I was set to testify at his appeal before your little _stunt_ had it revoked, but like I said, he's not one to hold a grudge."

He winks and Harvey's heart beats unsteadily, the rhythm skipping in his chest as reality comes crashing down around him. He's being set up. Harris working with Huntley explains how they were able to traffic information undetected, and he's livid at being blindsided, even more pissed Cahill and the FBI somehow missed the fucking connection. "You made Stephen your informant so you could do a deal for his release."

"I can neither confirm or deny that."

He doesn't have to. It's written all over the bastard's face but it'll be a cold day hell before Harvey admits defeat to either of them. "The _second_ Cahill hears out about this-"

"You actually think he's going to take your call after last time?" Landon cuts him off, having already covered his bases. One threat against the prosecutor's career and Sean had backed off, not wanting anything more to do with the hot-headed lawyer. "He's busy trying to save his own ass, so it looks like your shit out of luck, Specter."

"If you think that, you clearly don't know me." He bites back, glaring through a hard stare. He doesn't rely on luck, he makes his own, and Harris can threaten all he wants, it's not going to rattle him.

Landon's almost impressed by the man's poker face but the lawyer still isn't getting it. Prison time puts him on an even standing with Stephen, which isn't good enough. He's here to tip the scales and make sure Harvey's entitled arrogance is dealt the justice it deserves. "Maybe I don't." He shrugs, resting his free palm over the table. "However, I'm really looking forward to getting _personally_ acquainted with Miss Paulsen while you're in here."

Harvey rips himself up, his wrist jarring painfully as the cuff slams him back.

"Well, fancy that..." Landon chuckles, "it seems those were necessary after all."

"Stay the _hell_ away from her." He barks, not caring that his restraint is suddenly non-existent. He knows what Huntley is capable of, and from what he's seen Harris is in the same league, making his chest tighten and his breath spill out faster. "Touch her and I will break _every_ bone in your _pathetic_ body, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear." He hovers over the table, taking a moment to savour the man's anger. "I'll be _very_ gentle, I promise."

Harvey snaps the chain again, his blood boiling as the man strides away from him. "Harris!" He pulls more frantically, chafing the raw skin that still hasn't healed, and shouting as the door swings open- but it slams shut suffocating him in silence.

A rush between his ears spills over the ticking clock and he can feel sweat beading at his hairline. He'd promised himself he would never be this powerless again, that he would protect Donna at all costs, and he deliberately rips his arm back, punishing himself with the pain. It ripples through his shoulder and he sucks in a sharp breath, blinking away a haze a back spots, and chiding himself for the stupidity. He needs to focus and tries to calm his racing thoughts. They can't keep him locked in here forever and Samantha is no doubt less than a few feet away raising hell. Donna would have followed him and wouldn't just leave. Not until she knows he's okay, and the irony isn't lost on him. They're in a building, surrounded by police officers, and the only thing keeping her safe is the fact they think _he's_ the criminal.

All he can do is pray Samantha gets in here fast because he doesn't believe for one second Harris was making an empty threat, and if anything happens to Donna, he's never going to forgive himself.

**...**

Donna's eyes flash up from the hard plastic chair, her expression racked with concern as Landon approaches her. Samantha had been closer to the station and arrived first but Donna hasn't been allowed to see the blonde or Harvey, her usual charisma off-point and failing to get answers. She'd been too stricken with nerves to hatch a scheme and had been about to call Louis when the federal agent appeared introducing himself as a lead consultant on the case. She'd immediately questioned the agent's involvement but he'd had assured her it was Harvey's doing. That Cahill had sent him down here as a precaution, wanting to make sure the charges were in no way connected to the FBI operation Harvey compromised.

Guilt had knotted in her chest, knowing she was partially responsible for the inference. At the time she hadn't asked Harvey for details. Stephen being placed back in a secure facility had trumped her need to know what lengths he and Samantha had used to make it happen. Now she's wishing she hadn't been so naive. All she wants to do is see him but Landon's soft footfall and his loose smile help to ease her panic.

"How is he?" She stands, folding her arms over her chest as the tall man stops in front her.

"Depends. Is he always like that?"

He thumbs over his shoulder and she feels even more relieved. If she needed proof the two met, it's right there in the question, but rather than admit to Harvey's lack of patience she jumps to his defense. "It's been a hard couple of days."

He nods, glancing at the time on the wall behind her. "Look Donna, I'm going to be honest," he says, shifting his attention back to her, "there have been some _complications_, and they could cause problems."

The choice of wording unsettles her. "What kind of complications?"

He feigns checking the area, and places a light hand against her shoulder leading them further into the corner. "It's not something I can really discuss here. Why don't I take you home and we can talk some more in private?"

Her eyes flicker in the direction he'd come from, to where Harvey is locked away somewhere, and every instinct is telling her not to leave him. Whatever's going on, she isn't a lawyer and anything Landon has to say should be communicated to everybody involved. "What about Samantha?"

"She's in with him now but the official processing is going to take a while." He moves his hand to the wall, boxing them in to keep her away from prying ears and eyes. "I don't usually cut corners but Harvey is the reason we found out Huntley was double-crossing us. I'd like to do what I can to repay him."

She holds his gaze, too busy trying to read it to be put off by his sudden closeness. He seems genuine but there's something else resting underneath the surface of his kindness, and her first assumption is that things are worse than he's letting on. "How bad is it?"

He breathes out a sigh shaking and ducking his head. "It's not great."

_Not great. _

That could mean anything and she swallows, blinking at the long stretch of hall behind Landon's shoulder.

"Hey."

His gentle voice guides her attention back to him.

"He's worried about you too, you know."

She breathes in, not doubting it. Harvey's been flippant with her needs over the years but never when it came to anything important. This morning he'd been concerned about her just leaving the apartment, and although Catalina is no longer a threat, she can imagine his anxiety is at its peak. All she wants to do is reassurance him it's going to be okay, no matter how the odds are stacked.

"Donna, the best thing you can do for Harvey right now is help me make sense of this." He pulls his hand from the wall, extending it towards the exit. "Besides… I promised I'd get you out of here. You're not going to make me go back on my word are you?"

She sighs, trying to appear gracious as she gives in, following the direction of his hand as it stretches it out. Samantha is doing what her part, she needs to do what she can, and sitting around waiting isn't going to achieve anything.

She just has to trust that she's making the right decision, even though it feels like the wrong one.


	13. Chapter 13

By the time Samantha pushes through the door to the interrogation room, Harvey's anxiety is at its peak. He's been sat for god knows how long, stewing on Harris' threat and envisioning worst-case scenarios. All his mind can fathom is that Donna's in danger, and he rips himself up from the desk, his eyes landing on the blonde lawyer with a frantic jerk. "Where's Donna?"

Samantha flinches at the jarring movement, his aggression fuelling her own frustration- not at him but the situation. She'd been gruelled for over an hour about her involvement hampering a federal investigation. She'd denied it, arguing her right to either be given counsel or let her leave to represent Harvey, a request that had been vehemently denied up until several minutes ago. Without warning, she'd been granted a stay of execution, and her instincts are telling her to look a gift horse in the mouth because something isn't right. Harvey's reaction only confirms it, but her main priority is getting them out of the shit they're in, and Donna is the last person he should be focusing on right now. "I couldn't find her, but we need _to_-"

"Samantha-" he stops her, fear driving him straight to the point, "Harris is in on this with Huntley. They're setting me up." He has no idea if she's even met the agent yet, but filling her in is a secondary concern. His first is getting eyes on Donna and making sure she's safe. "You need to find out where she is, make sure Harris isn't with her."

Desperation claws beneath his tone but Samantha struggles to recall anything out of place about her short interaction with the agent, aside from the man being a smug prick. If Landon's been colluding with Huntley, it would explain why she and Harvey are being treated like second class citizens, but she needs more information to fit the pieces together and stops in front of the barrier between them. "Slow down, start from the beginning."

Harvey yanks uselessly at the chain, sucking in a sharp breath.

They don't have time for this.

Landon had been bold with his threat, and Stephen is a deranged sociopath. Whatever their plan is, it involves Donna, and he leans heavily on his palms, trying to calm the panic rushing through his body. He's been accused of a crime that could put him in prison, and Samantha is doing her job. She needs a straight answer, but he needs her to trust him and bury the attack mode she's in. "I don't know if this is revenge or a way to get Huntley a second appeal, but Harris was responsible for putting Catalina in the hospital, and now he's going after Donna."

Her brows lift, silently questioning his open vulnerability, and he doesn't blame her. He's always prided himself on keeping a level head in situations like this. Over the years he's always buried his feelings to protect Donna, but this is different. They're together now, and he doesn't care that his emotions are being scrutinized.

"She's in trouble, Samantha, _please_."

His gaze brightens, moisture highlighting his fear and she knows it isn't an act. Harvey Specter is a lot of things, but loyalty is the back-bone of his existence, and Donna's the person who keeps him standing straight. It might sound like an absurd story from a guilty party, but her eyes fall to the swollen skin bruising his wrist and she shoves her hand inside her pocket, digging out the clips she'd swept up as soon as she'd realized they were both headed down this path. It was a precautionary measure but she's glad she'd taken it, subtle about provoking attention from the camera in the corner of the room.

He frowns as she moves around the desk, the obstacle that's been his prison, and he's more confused when she slides her weight against the edge of the table leaning over him.

"What are you doing?"

She unwinds the metal, digging it into the locking mechanism that's keeping him tethered. "Getting ready to share a cell." She's only half-joking. Whatever is going on she's been suckered in, but Robert had warned her about this when he'd agreed to merge both firms together. They were inserting themselves into a family and as something she's never really had before, being invited into the fold has been eye-opening. They've had their ups and downs like any siblings, but they stick together no matter what, and her lips purse together as she finds the right angle to spring open the cuff.

He clutches the raw skin, overwhelmed by the fact he can suddenly move, but Samthana pushes down firmly over his shoulder, keeping him in place.

"They're not just going to let you walk out of here, we need a plan."

"Sounds like a _damn_ good plan to me." He fires at her, his newfound freedom making him itch to leave, and he forces his weight against her palm, but her words stop him.

"You think running out half-cocked will help Donna?" She threatens, no being malicious with the intent, but her hard stare is deliberate. "Harris is playing a game, we need to be smart about this."

He stiffens, landing roughly back in the seat, indecision resting heavily in his chest as he glances across at the door. Nobody's been anywhere near the interrogation room, no doubt under instructions from the federal agent. He could leave and risk the consequences, but deep down he knows Samantha is right. If they get caught he's going to be screwed. But his basic rights have been violated more times than he can count, enough to file for a release warrant from a judge. Time he doesn't have, but all they have to do is drum up enough fear to scare the right people into _thinking_ the charges could get thrown out on a technicality, and call Harris' bluff. "Habeas corpus. We throw this back on them."

She considers the bold move, winding her arms tightly over her chest. If it works, it could get him out. If it doesn't, the likely alternative is that they'll charge him, which will split her focus between his defense and finding Donna. It's obvious where Harvey's priorities are, but as his lawyer, hers are scattered. She's knee-deep in this thing with Huntley as is, and should have already recused herself. "If this doesn't work, Louis should be the one representing you, not me."

"No." Harvey shakes his head adamantly, and not because he wouldn't trust the man to do it. Louis is a damn good lawyer but if things go south, the change would make it seem like they have something to hide. It's a play by Harris he can see coming a mile off, and they need to keep their plan contained where possible. "We fly under the radar. If it doesn't work, I can handle it."

He's aware of the risk.

This could land him in a cell sooner than getting them answers, but if there's even the slightest chance it will help Donna, he'll do it. "She comes first." He asserts, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

_Whatever it takes._

Samantha receives the message loud and clear, and the air leaves her chest with a heavy sigh. She isn't worried he'll go back on the condition, because he won't. She's scared Harris has enough pieces on the board to screw them, and Donna is just a distraction, but if what Harvey's saying is true. If the agent attacked Catalina, then he's dangerous, and she's not prepared to risk Donna either.

She just hopes the redhead is using her power to read people, and that it will buy them the time they need to pull this off.

* * *

Donna sips her drink, leaning back against the leather sofa in Harvey's condo and making room as Landon seats himself beside her, nursing his own cup of tea. The warm beverage instantly helps to calm her nerves, and she takes another mouthful but can't relax, concerned he'd wanted them to speak in private. It's not in her nature to skirt around her instincts, and she'd thought about calling Louis to meet them. Like she'd told Landon, she isn't a lawyer, but with Harvey and Samantha both at the police station, and herself here, someone needs to be at the firm running damage control. Alex, Katrina and Louis are going to have their hands full, and she hadn't wanted to wait, needing to do something, _anything_, to get to the bottom of why Harvey's been wrongly accused.

Landon sets his mug down on the coffee table, clasping his hands over his knee with a drawn-out sigh. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but the evidence they have is enough to charge him. He was conveniently missing at the time of the attack, has no alibi, a clear motive, and his DNA was found at the scene."

"Which is all circumstantial." She may not have a law degree, but there's no hard proof. Everything can be explained, including the physical evidence, though her stomach rolls uncomfortably at how it sounds all laid out. Harvey's going to have to admit that they're together. Lying about it would make it seem like they have something to hide, but he'd been sleeping with Catalina and the police are no doubt going to question him jumping from one relationship straight into another. It took him over a decade to admit his feelings to her, she doesn't know how he's going to face justifying to complete strangers why he was with Catalina in the first place to complete strangers. The timing is a mess and she wishes she could be there to explain her side of things. "Why aren't they questioning me? I was here when he came home."

"You're a character witness. You didn't actually see anything. You can only testify to his state of mind- and given you two are now involved romantically, I'm not sure talking with the police is the best move at the moment."

"How did you know that?"

Her gaze flashes up, and he tilts his head.

"I'm sorry?"

"That we're together now?" She cups her mug with a frown, unease tingling beneath her skin. "We haven't had a chance to tell anyone yet." When they'd left the station Harvey was still waiting to be questioned and the only two people clued in are Mike and Rachel. Neither would have spilled the beans, not yet, and she can't understand how the news would have spread so quickly.

Landon reaches for his tea, picking it up and swallowing a sip. "Harvey told me." He returns the drink to the table, softening his tone as he faces her. "I hope it's not out of place to say this, but it was pretty obvious to me that he cares a lot about you."

It's not untrue, but Landon's words don't fit with the picture she has of Harvey sitting anxiously in an interrogation room. He isn't the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, especially with Catalina no longer being a threat. He would have been pissed, concerned with getting himself out, and she tugs at her lip, foggy and unable to fit the pieces together.

Landon reads her hesitation, and ducks his head, taking a moment before finding her gaze again. "Harvey thinks he's being set up, and if he is, you could be in danger as well. That's why he mentioned it."

The reason sounds more credible but still leaves her in the dark, and her eyes flutter shut, tired and overwhelmed by another hurdle they're up against. Her head is spinning, and she takes a deep breath trying to compose herself.

"Can you think of anybody who might be responsible?"

His voice floats in the air, springing to mind too many names, and it's like she's sinking underwater. The nature of their work, along with Harvey's cut-throat drive has won him plenty of enemies over the years, but he's always acted with integrity. If someone orchestrated his arrest, it's for the wrong reasons, and no amount of circling wolves will convince her otherwise. "He's a lawyer, not mother Theresa."

Her mouth pulls into a tight line, and Landon can sense her frustration, deliberately pushing it. "What about Thomas Kessler?" She stares at him blankly, and he shrugs. "You were seeing him not that long ago, right?"

Bright pinpricks spot her vision, and she doesn't know if it's from stress or nerves, but the room feels too hot, and she clutches the tea in her hand, defending Thomas' innocence. "He wouldn't do something like this."

"Why did you two break things off?"

She opens her mouth, stumbling over what to tell him. It was complicated. Throw her feelings for Harvey into the mix and it damns all three of them, but the truth is, Thomas had stepped aside because he's an honorable man. He'd seen what everyone else had, the protectiveness Harris claimed to witness himself, and she doesn't know why the agent is steering them down a path accusing her ex. "I don't-"

"Did you love him?" He asks bluntly, watching her face fall.

"No, _but_-"

"So, you were just using him?"

He interrupts again, and she feels dizzy under the weight of his gaze, a weak protest falling from her mouth. "It wasn't like that."

"So you didn't treat him like a doormat, just like your sister would have?"

Her insides churn at the mention of her sibling, and she knows something isn't right. She feels sick, like she's going to pass out or throw up, maybe both, but her instincts jolt her attention when he prises the mug of her trembling grip. He places it on the table, sounding far too calm for someone who was just attacking her with intimate details about her family.

"Donna, everything okay?" He asks, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "You look a little pale."

The question echoes in her ears, an orange halo crisscrossing her vision, and she tries to back away from him but her limbs feel like lead, and she slumps against the armrest, recoiling when his hand rests over her knee.

"Just take it easy."

She shakes her head, the tea she'd been drinking pulling in and out of focus and her breath leaves her in quick sharp bursts. Landon had been the one to make their drinks, and his smugness reverberates through her grogginess. He did this. She doesn't know why, and can't articulate the words to ask, but she drags herself up, wobbling unsteadily and buckling against the display unit.

"Donna..." he sighs, impressed by her stubbornness, but she has to know it's pointless. "Where are you going to go?"

She ignores him, her muscles tightening with pins and needles, and she stumbles again, catching herself against Harvey's large warrior statue. It tipples, too much for her weight, and she flinches when his arms suddenly latch around her waist.

"Come on, _hey_..." he pulls her against his chest, breathing hotly into her ear, "can't have you getting hurt, now, can we?"

She tries to struggle out of his grasp but can't, her body refusing to co-operate despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Everything is disjointed but the tight curl of Landon's fingers ignite a rush of panic. She'd trusted him to take care of things, had let the agent into Harvey's home, and fear coils around the sickly feeling pitted in her stomach. "_Stop_."

The plea isn't much more than a whimper, which he ignores, jerking her elbow around his neck and leading them back to the couch. He needs her complacent but also conscious before he can put the next part of his plan into action.

He dumps her down, tangling a rough hand through her hair. She barely reacts, save for a small gurgle in her throat, and he lets go, knowing he'll need to wait, give her some time to sleep off the heavier effects of the drugs in her system. Then she'll be ready to give him the last piece of evidence he needs to finally show goddamn Harvey Specter the world doesn't revolve around his ego, and that he can't just act without consequences.

He's going to deliver the cold, hard truth; the good guys are just the same as the bad ones, the only difference is someone has to come out on top, and there's no way in hell he's going to lose

* * *

**AN:_ Special thanks to darvey_love (southsidesister) and jobiefreeman (pegtasic) who helped me get this posted. Two amazing writers whose words are magic xx_**


	14. Chapter 14

14.

Donna wakes to an incessant buzzing, the sound intensifying when she tries to lift her head. The task is too much though, and she focuses on opening her eyes instead, blinking in Landon's form sat in Harvey's leather-studded chair across from her. She isn't bound, but her body feels like dead weight, and she takes several deep breaths, the need to move spurred by adrenaline pumping through her chest. She doesn't want to be seen as vulnerable, even though right now she is, and stubbornly presses her fingertips into the hard surface below her. The room spins viciously, but Landon's soft chuckle ignites her determination, and when she's finally able, she shoots him a steely glare.

"I can see someone isn't a morning person." He taunts, checking the time on his watch. She was out longer than he expected, but they're still on schedule, and he motions to the glass sitting in front of her. "Drink something, it'll help."

Even though she's parched she doesn't dare reach for it, trying to figure out why he's doing this and what he could possibly want. If it was to hurt her, he could have done so at any point while she was unconscious, and while the thought makes her skin crawl, she knows it has to be something else. He'd told her back at the station Cahill had sent him, but no matter how much bad blood there is between Sean and Harvey, the prosecutor has no reason to want to see Harvey behind bars. But he had been working on the deal for Stephen, the case linked to the feds, and she pales, her voice croaking through dry lips. "You're working with Huntley."

"Not just a pretty face, are you?" He's almost impressed she figured it out so quickly. It had taken a lot more goading for Harvey to finally get it, but the loss of color to her cheeks urges him forward. He can't afford to have her pass out on him now she's awake, and he takes a sip from the glass between them, proving it isn't tainted. "It's just water, Donna."

He sets it back down, and she swallows, in desperate need of something to quench the dryness burning her throat, but afraid it will make her look weak if she gives in. Not that she's in any condition to fight it. Stubbornness won't stop the dizziness hazing her vision, and she shakily brings the water to her mouth, drinking until her arms are no longer able to hold the weight. The tumbler clatters against the table, and she rests her head in her palm, breathing in, not sure why Landon would go to the trouble of drugging her. He has to know that once this is over, she'll go straight to the police, and if she can't, anything that happens to her is only going to cast doubt on Harvey's arrest. That's the last thing he or Huntley would want, and the sudden thought of Harvey makes her heart sink. She'd sent Landon in to check on him, not realizing the agent was responsible for setting him up, and her gaze flashes angrily toward the man opposite her. "Does he know?"

"You should have seen his face." Landon doesn't bother hiding the amusement behind his smirk. He did his research when Huntley's appeal was thrown out, and he'd quickly discovered Harvey Specter will bend for a handful of people but he'll only break for one, and the lawyer had reacted exactly how Landon anticipated he would. "Made some very colorful threats trying to protect you, not that there was anything he could do."

A ball of anxiety knots in the pit of her stomach. She'd been right there, less than a few rooms away, her instincts warning her not to leave. Now she's here because she ignored them, and if Harvey thinks she's in danger, there's no telling what he might do. She only hopes Samantha is there to step in, but for all she knows that was a lie too, and her eyes flutter closed, realizing her own part in all of this. Landon and Stephen don't just want him behind bars, they want him to suffer first, but she forces herself to remember why she's always had faith in Harvey. Because when he's backed against a wall, that's when he fights, and she isn't going to lose her faith now. "Push him like this, and I promise you'll regret it."

He admires the ballsy threat, but his plan is contingent on the lawyer bringing his A-game to the table. If Harvey simply sat back and accepted his fate, the guy might stand a chance of getting out of it, but he's going to dig his own grave, and Landon finds his phone, the proverbial shovel. "Let's see, shall we?" He holds the device up in front of her. "I wonder how he'll react when he sees a video of you admitting he beat Miss Barnes within an inch of her life."

She blinks uneasily at the object, but there's no way in hell she's going to do what he's asking. He can't hurt her, not without incriminating himself, and she firms her jaw, calling his bluff. "No."

A chuckle hums at the back of his throat, having anticipated her unwillingness but not letting it phase him. She's obviously pieced together he can't force her. Not physically at least, hence the drugs. He needs the performance to look real, but being an actress, she shouldn't have any trouble faking it with the right incentive. "I don't need him alive, Donna." He warns, a more serious edge to his tone. "Stephen's the one who wants to see him rot in a cell. All I need is enough evidence to discredit him, so what happens next is your call."

The phone clatters on the table and the air in her chest grows thinner under the weight of his gaze. There's no mistaking the threat. If she doesn't agree to do what he's asking, she'll be putting Harvey's life in danger, but if she does, there'll be a video of her condemning him, and now she knows why Landon hasn't laid a hand on her. Because even if she could get to the police in time, there's no proof. It's just her word against his, and he's already shown how high up his connections go. She's trapped, stuck like a deer in headlights and breathing unsteadily when a knock erupts through the apartment sending her adrenaline sky high.

Landon reacts first, standing to retrieve the gun from his waistband, and she recoils away from the weapon but isn't able to fight his grip as he hauls her up. She immediately stumbles, her legs refusing to co-operate, and his nails bite into her skin, keeping her from falling as he drags her to the door

She presses against it, terrified, not for herself but for whoever is on the other side, afraid that they'll get mixed up in Landon's plan or worse, wind up getting hurt, and when he motions for her to answer through the wood, she closes her eyes, trying to calm her nerves. "Now isn't a good time."

"Donna, it's me."

Her chest thunders at the sound of Harvey's voice, the gun at her hip burrowing in deeper, and she assumes Landon wants him gone, confused when he tugs her back, giving her enough room to open the door. She doesn't, the need to protect Harvey rising above all else, but Landon tugs the handle, pulling it as far as the chain will allow.

She doesn't know what he wants her to do, and she stares at Harvey with wide eyes, hoping he can read the warning behind them.

"It's okay." His expression softens at her concern, aware it's for him, and that she isn't by herself. As soon as the police commissioner had cowered under the threat of a mistrial, he'd called ahead to the building's concierge to see if Harris had brought them here. When they'd confirmed she'd arrived with the agent it had fuelled his hope that Harris wouldn't hurt her with witnesses around. Everything he's done so far has been meticulously thought out, which is why he'd come alone, leaving Samantha to work on a plan-B. Because whatever Harris wants, he doesn't care, he'll sacrifice anything in exchange for Donna, and he makes no show of hiding it. "Open the door, Harris."

There's a deafening beat of silence until Donna flinches, her pupils full and dilated like she's on something, and irritation fires through his body. "_Damnit, _Landon, you know I'm not going to do anything stupid."

The agent smirks but doesn't release his grip. Instead, he leans over Donna to unlatch the chain, pulling her roughly back as the door swings inwards.

"Someone's resourceful," he quips, cocking his head at the disheveled lawyer. He's a far cry from the composed man who'd been sat across from him hours earlier, but he's surprisingly collected as he closes the door behind him.

"You didn't leave me much choice." His eyes wash over Donna, anything but calm as they fall to where Harris has his fingers digging into her arm, right before they shift to the gun that's jutting in at her side. She doesn't seem hurt but she is leaning on the man, another indication she's been incapacitated somehow, and it takes every ounce of willpower to smother his anger.

"It's actually good timing. Maybe you can convince your girlfriend here to be a little more cooperative." Landon squeezes her, watching as Harvey's body tenses, every joint in the lawyer's body looking ready to snap, but he knows Harvey won't move an inch or do anything that might put her at risk.

"Donna, whatever he's asking, do it."

The plea grinds its way out, but she shakes her head, refusing to be used as some sort of bargaining chip. "No."

Harvey's gaze flashes to hers, and she forces herself not to give in to the concealed panic buried beneath his stern expression. He isn't stuck in some prison cell somewhere, and Landon's not going to do anything to her. The agent is just using Harvey's fear against them, and she isn't going to be the reason he gets convicted for a crime he didn't commit. "He wants me to record a video confession."

Harvey breathes in sharply, suddenly understanding why she's so reluctant to give Harris what he wants. Even if she tried to take it back after the fact, a testimony would plant enough seeds of doubt within a jury to question its existence. But he also doesn't care. He'd tape the goddamn thing himself if he thought it would get her out of Harris and Huntley's crosshairs. Still, the only way to ensure her safety is if she's the one in the video, and if that's the deal they have to make, he'll take it. "_Donna_, I'm not asking."

She shakes her head willing him to listen. "He's not going to hurt me."

"That part's actually true... " Landon cocks the gun, aiming it higher and squaring it at Harvey's chest, "but I could spin a pretty convincing story about how I had to shoot in self-defense. Remember, sweetheart, Huntley's the one who wants him in prison, not me."

The conviction in his voice makes her shudder, and she watches Harvey swallow with only the slightest flicker of fear in his expression, but hers is twisted with anguish, and a knot wells in her throat. She's not the pawn anymore, Harvey is, and she locks eyes with him again, choking on how to tell him she's sorry, that if there were any other way she'd take it, but there isn't.

"She'll do it." He answers for her, because it's the only way he can think of to reassure her none of this is her fault. That whatever happens to him, he can handle it, so long as it gets her out of this mess.

Landon lowers the weapon, deliberately keeping the safety off as he digs it in behind Donna's back. "Over there."

Unease churns in Harvey's stomach but he does as instructed, his feet heavy as they steer him towards the dining room table. Harris motions to the chair at the far end and he sinks himself down, visibly flinching when the agent tosses a pair of cable ties across the polished wood. The thought of being restrained makes his chest race with anxiety, but he tries to calm the rising panic for Donna's sake.

Her face is already flooded with guilt and when Harris lets her go, she stumbles, her hip clashing against the corner of the furniture. He instinctively rises to help, but the agent shoots him back down with a warning glare, and he grinds his jaw, watching her fingers hook shakily around the thin white binding. When she manages to ger herself close enough, he tries to make it easy for her, placing his hands around the back of the chair with a whisper. "It's going to be okay."

She doesn't know how, regret heaving in her chest at the sight of his bruised wrists. Hurting him is going to be unavoidable, and her heart aches as she snaps the ties in place, lingering there as long as she can before Landon yanks her up, pushing her into a seat at the other end of the table.

Pain flairs along the inside of Harvey's arm, but he focuses on the tiny tingle left by her delicate touch, the brief notes of perfume he'd managed to catch and anything else that can distract him from the show Harris is about to force from her.

"I expect tears. This isn't a dress rehearsal."

She closes her eyes, knowing she can't look at Harvey. Not just because she's afraid of what this will mean for him, but because she has to stay focused. If she screws up, she doesn't doubt Landon will go through with his threat, and the waver in her voice comes naturally when he hits record, leading her questions about the morning Catalina was assaulted.

Half-way in and Harvey can't tell which emotions are real or not as she paints a vastly different picture to the two of them sat together on his couch, talking about his insecurities and then spending the next few hours wrapped up in each other's arms. He tries to hold onto the memory of what actually happened but her fear, genuine or not, cuts through him, the wetness landing on her cheeks making every fibre of his being itch to reach out and comfort her. After everything she's been through, and now this, when Harris finally calls an end to the charade, he's ready to tear the man limb from limb. "Are you _goddamn_ satisfied?"

"Confused why your girl chose a career in corporate law." He muses, focused on the screen as he makes a copy, sending it to a secure location on his work server. When it's on its way he sets the device down, watching the status bar as it moves along, hitting the end with a prominent ding.

"_Great."_ Harvey bites out his sarcasm at the unnecessary showboating. "She did what you asked. Take me back in and leave her the hell alone."

"You really are an _arrogant_ son-of-a-bitch, aren't you?" Landon turns on his heel, having been waiting for the moment he would finally get to put the insufferable lawyer in his place. "Did you really think they would just let you walk out of a police station pending aggravated assault and federal charges?"

Harvey flinches, uncertainty coiling in the pit of his stomach at the taunting tone, and he jerks up when Harris steps towards him but is still trapped by the binds securing him in place. He doesn't care if the agent had a hand in getting him out or why, they had a deal. "This is between us, you don't need her anymore."

"Well, you're half-right. I _don't_ need her anymore." It had been his plan all along, to get rid of her so she wouldn't be able to recant the testimony later on in court. He couldn't do it himself, not without a fall guy, but he knew if Harvey thought she was in danger he'd find a loophole to get himself here. After instructing the police commissioner to back down to any legal threats, all he'd had to do was bide his time, and Donna had played her part perfectly. She'd sealed both their fates the moment she'd admitted to being scared of Harvey on camera, giving any jury motive, and with the file now at the FBI headquarters, he can finally have some real run. "Why put you away for a few years when you'll be up for life after murdering your girlfriend."

"Don't you _fucking_ touch her," Harvey spits, a wave of anger he's never felt before reaching every crevice of his body. Harris had played him and he'd fallen for it hook, line and sinker, his muscles shaking with rage when the man palms the table, breathing hotly against his face.

"Remember when I said I'd be gentle, I _lied_."

Landon straightens, and the only thing stopping Harvey from letting loose every threat under the sun is another pronounced ding, along with a flash of movement that draws both men's attention to where Donna is struggling with Harris' phone. A warning stirs in Harvey's throat, but before he can shout it, the agent lunges, circling his arms around her trembling form and tearing the device from her grip.

Landon glances at the screen and realizing she didn't get a chance to send the recording, tosses the phone out of her reach, wrapping his fingers tightly around her throat. "Nice try." He'd wanted to take his time, make the pair of them suffer, but it's proving more trouble than it's worth, and he squeezes, smirking against her ear as she struggles against him."Turns out I can hurt you after all."

"_Donna_!"

She can hear the desperation in Harvey's voice, begging her to fight, but any strength she had is zapped away by the hand choking her airway. She tries to gasp around it but the attempt does nothing to fill her lungs and she can feel the world growing dark around her, helpless to do anything except succumb to it.

She just hopes Harvey can find a way to forgive her as she lets go, slipping into oblivion.

.

.

* * *

**AN:** I had such a hard time writing this chapter and it wouldn't have happened without the encouragement, ideas and support from southsidesister, Pegtastic and AlternateShadesofBlue. If there's anyone reading this who is having doubts about posting, needs some help, or even just a place to start, the Darvey community is such a kind and nurturing environment. I'm on twitter, please feel free to reach out so we can keep this fandom going forever :) xx

Also, sorry not sorry about another cliffhanger haha but the next update definitely won't be as long! ;)


	15. Chapter 15

"Donna!"

Harvey calls out her name again, his heart beating frantically as he deftly fumbles with the small and awkward weight wedged in his hands. Samantha had thrust the utility knife from the corner of her glove box at him, and he'd taken the object, because despite it being no match for a gun, it was something, and right now it's _everything_. His only way to help Donna, who's in no condition to fight back against Harris. He can't see her face, just the way her arm falls limply in defeat, and he jerks hard, causing the bindings to finally snap. The knife clatters to the floor but he leaves it, launching himself at the agent with full force. Rage and hatred blinding any sense.

He's not interested in the gun. Only ripping the man away from Donna, and he crashes them both to the ground, knocking the wind out of Harris and taking the first swing, then another, connecting brutally with the man's face. He said he was going to break every bone in the agent's pathetic body, and the urge is overwhelming, even as Landon hooks a punch of his own, the impact ricocheting painfully through his jaw. The agent might be field trained, but Harvey's boxed enough not to be dazed by the hit or the blood he can taste. It incites him more, and when Harris pulls his gun, Harvey throws him, retracting his arm and delivering a blow that sends the man's head cracking into the hard-wood floor. The weapon clatters between them, but the agent doesn't get back up, and a deafening silence rings in Harvey's ears. He wipes his mouth, gaze swimming and chest heaving as he takes the weapon, spinning in search of Donna, panic quickly replacing his anger.

She's crumpled in a heap where Harris let go, and he scrambles across, searching for a sign she's okay, but there's nothing to convince him she is. She's completely still, her face unnaturally pale beneath her fiery red hair, and he lands, sweeping it back to try and rouse her. "_Donna_," he chokes out her name, but can't manage any other words, stumbling his fingers across the marks around her neck in search of a pulse. They're shaking so badly he can't tell if there's movement beneath them, and slides down to her wrist, pressing until he feels a flutter that doesn't do a damn thing to calm him. He doesn't know if she's breathing and races back to her mouth, trying to recall basic first-aid from his scrambled memories but she gasps first, her upper body tensing and expelling too much oxygen that floods her lungs all at once. The sound hammers through him, and his palm flattens against her spine, supporting her while she tries to find a normal rhythm again.

She grips his shirt, disorientated, her throat burning as if it's on fire and she flutters her hand up wincing as it brushes the tender skin.

He catches her fingers, a pained look in his gaze as he pulls them down, taking in the bruising. "Are you okay?" The question catches, and even though she manages a nod, he knows she isn't, and his concern flips like a switch back to anger. If Samantha hadn't shoved the knife in his grasp or if Harris had applied any more pressure, _fuck_, he wants to kill the goddamn son-of-a-bitch, and his fist instinctively curls at Donna back.

She watches his eyes snap to where the agent is lying, croaking a hoarse plea to stop him from doing anything stupid. "Harvey, _don't_." His muscles stay tense around her, and she fights through her dizziness, through the fear pitted in her stomach. He just assaulted a federal agent and is on the verge of snapping again. If she doesn't do something, he's going to make things a thousand times worse than they already are, and she clambers out of his arms, knowing if she can find Landon's phone the recording might be enough to get him to protect him.

It takes him a full second to register her pulling away but when he does his attention flies back to her, worry smothering anything else. She's too groggy to be on her feet, barely conscious as it is, and he slips in front of her, placing his hands over her shoulders. "_Hey_, slow down, what are you doing?"

"We need his phone."

She's almost frantic in her attempt to push passed but he doesn't let go, fully focused on her. "Donna, _stop_, look at me."

Her breath hitches wanting, _needing,_ to help him, and when his palm slides against her cheek forcing her gaze, guilt turns her stomach.

"Forget about that." He cuts off whatever protest is coming. She'd nearly gotten herself killed because of the goddamn recording and it's the last thing he cares about. "What happened, what did he do?"

The question is laced with concern and she shakes her head. Aside from almost strangling her and setting Harvey up for life in prison, nothing.

"He gave you something," he says, trying to draw it out of her and scanning her pupils. They're still wide as saucers, the second time in a week she's been drugged, and he shifts his hands down checking for anything he might have missed.

"I'm fine." She pushes his forearms back, the weak attempt not convincing but it's all she can do to force their bearings. He's more steady than she is and should be trying to come up with a plan. "We need to fix this."

He hates that she's right, that they can't just take a moment so he can properly check she's okay. He'd sent Harris down hard and could give a shit if the man ever wakes up again but if he does, Harvey wants the agent as far away from Donna as humanly possible, and he takes the gun from his waistband, stretching the barrel toward her. "You know how to use it?"

She glances at Landon then back to the weapon. She does. Though the thought of firing it at a living person is entirely different, but she will if she has to, and takes it from his grasp. He trusts her. She can see it reflected in his gaze, and knowing she just helped seal his fate winds a tight knot in her throat. "I'm sorry."

The apology makes him freeze, the fact she would feel any guilt for what just happened tearing through him. She did what he asked her to, what he _begged_ her to do, and the only thing she can be blamed for is being too good of an actress. That's not her fault and he holds her gaze seriously. "You did nothing wrong, okay?"

She doesn't know how he can say that when she just painted him as some kind of murderous villain, someone she's afraid of. If what she said hurts him in any way she'll never forgive herself, but she keeps the thought to herself as he pushes up, her eyes falling back to Landon's crumpled body. If they lost his confession or if he doesn't regain consciousness she knows exactly how it's going to look; like Harvey came here, found her making the video, and beat Harrison within an inch of his life before threatening her to take it all back.

If the agent doesn't wake up, he and Stephen could still achieve everything they set out to, all because she'd let herself be manipulated. Catalina hadn't been her fault but _this_ is. She's responsible for leaving Harvey at the station, for going with Landon when her instincts told her not to, and she blinks back fresh, _real_ tears, her grip tightening around the gun. She can hear Harvey behind her when he calls an ambulance, Samantha, then the police, and she knows she should look for the missing phone but can't bring herself to move.

She has no concept of how long he's talking for. It could be minutes or hours that she's sat, trying to pull air in and out of her lungs until his face blocks her view from Landon. The agent still hasn't moved and the urge to check on him, to protect Harvey at all costs finally brings her out of the trance as she attempts to scramble around him.

"Donna, _no_." He stops her, being as gentle as he can. There's nothing either of them can do at this point. What's done is done. He doesn't regret it and she sure as hell shouldn't either. "It'll be okay, I promise."

She swallows thickly, not convinced, but when he prises the gun from her hands, she relinquishes it, the weight of her exhaustion and his arms wrapping around her making it too easy to give in.

He hugs her tightly, thanking _god_ he can, knowing whatever's going to happen she's safe. As much as it pained him to do it, he's already entrusted her care to Samantha because even if they find the phone in one piece, he's still going to have to explain himself. He's not naive enough to assume he won't be hauled straight back into an interrogation room but in the meantime, all he wants to do is hold the woman who means everything close to him.

"We'll be okay." He whispers the assurance again, pressing his lips to her hair. He wants to say they've been through worse, that they'll figure it out like they always do, but he doesn't dare tempt fate, not after being blindsided by so many things out of his control recently. The important thing is that they're both still here, and he clings to the notion, breathing her in until the moment his apartment erupts into a scene of chaos.

The paramedics arrive first, followed closely by Samantha and then the police who act exactly as he expects them to. They're in no way inclined to listen, but he doesn't fight their advance or Donna's protest when he's forced back into handcuffs. The truth will come out, or it won't, but he makes sure Samantha knows what to do, his voice hoarse as he tears his gaze away from Donna. "Look after her."

Samantha nods, her own emotions close to the surface as he's led out, Harris being wheeled along on a stretcher behind him. There are still officers mulling around, gathering evidence, but she fully intends to keep her promise and fixes her gaze on Donna, who is leaning heavily against the dining table and refusing any help. Samantha is beside her in an instant, her tone fuelled with concern. "_Donna..._"

"Landon's phone has a recording-" she pushes out her determination, "he admitted everything."

It doesn't surprise Samantha that Harvey omitted the detail. His only focus since the moment he'd called had been Donna, just like redhead is doing all she can for him now, and Samantha moves around the table, looking for the piece of evidence. She finds it laying with a cracked screen beneath the far chair, and she curses under her breath, slipping the phone into her pocket away from prying eyes. After everything they've all been through today she doesn't trust the police, but if there's a way to clear Harvey's name, she's going to find it.

"_Samantha_."

Donna stares up at her, desperation wound tightly in her expression, and she feels for the woman, in the same way she'd felt for Harvey before he'd been dragged out. She's never met two people more determined to protect each to their own detriment, and she isn't about to let either one of them suffer for it.

"I'll take care of it but whatever Harris gave you, it's still in your system. That can help Harvey."

It's the one thing she knows will make Donna relent, and the redhead does, allowing the paramedic at her side to help. While she's distracted, Samantha pulls out her own cell breathing an inward sigh of relief. This isn't what she signed on for when she joined ZSL but it's where her heart lies now, and she calls Robert and Louis to take her place at the hospital.

Because even though she'd told Harvey she'd take care of Donna, that means looking out for him too.

They're a package deal.

Just like the rest of the firm are, and she might not have known what she was getting herself into, but she wouldn't turn her back on them for anything.


	16. Chapter 16

Donna raises her head to the sound of keys jingling in the door.

_Her_ door, because going back to Harvey's hadn't felt right without him, even though her apartment isn't faring much better. With Catalina still in intensive care it's a safe space but it feels empty and hollow, ghostly reminders of everything that's happened still haunting her. She'd been in the hospital herself for hours while Harvey was being held for questioning, Samantha doing everything in her power to get the charges dropped. The text she'd received saying they were on their back was the only thing that's been able to calm her rattled nerves. However, there's still tension radiating through every one of her muscles, pain flaring when she moves because she'd refused more drugs. She'd wanted to stay clear-headed in case there was something she could do to help Harvey but it turns out sitting and waiting was the only option available.

Richard and Louis have been keeping a careful eye on her, both of them like hawks ready to swoop in, but when the door closes echoing through the quiet space, she ignores Robert's gentle hand at her shoulder, pushing up to meet the approaching footsteps.

Samantha enters first, Harvey a step behind, and she stops in front of him holding herself back to take in his exhaustion features. His eyes do the same, worry pooling in his gaze as it quickly washes over her.

"You okay?" His fingers settle at the crest of her elbow, his heart hammering at the simple novelty of being able to touch her.

She nods, pushing his worry aside to address her own. "What happened?"

"They have Harris confessing. The original charges were dropped." It's not over. He still has to answer for his actions but the evidence corroborates they'd been in self-defense, and he slides his palm up to her cheek, brushing his thumb against her pale skin. "You should sit down."

Warmth tingles beneath the sensation, relief choking her words. "I'm fine." She's hesitant to reach for him, aware they have an audience, but he doesn't have the same restraint. He pulls her closer, his lips tugging at the corners as they slide over hers, gently steering away her unease. There's nothing urgent about the kiss. It's slow but all-consuming, his palm pressing at her spine to keep them together, and she clutches his shirt, not wanting to be anywhere else.

Samantha fights a grin as she watches the pair, not at all surprised by the development. Robert's expression barely changes, but he does raise an eyebrow, and Louis is a little less subtle.

"They're... when_, what?_" He stammers, his gaze flicking to his other colleagues in confusion.

Samantha pats his shoulder, discouraging the questions. "We should probably give them some space."

He snaps his jaw closed, a warm feeling spreading through him because the details don't matter. His friends are together, safe, and he couldn't be happier about their union, but Robert is the one to interrupt them, subtly clearing his throat.

Donna presses lightly against Harvey's chest, blushing as she tries to separate them, but he keeps his fingers spread across her back, and rather than force them away, she turns in his arms with a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

Robert chuckles softly. "Don't be, Red. We're all just glad you're both okay."

"This isn't exactly what you agreed to put your name to," Harvey comments, not at all caring about openly displaying his affection. He doesn't want to let her go, not now, not ever, and can't even begin to express his gratitude for their friend's support. When Jessica left he thought he was losing a member of his family. He had no idea he'd wind up extending it.

"I think you'll find it's _exactly_ what we all agreed to." Robert claps the man on the back, placing his hands in his pockets with Louis and Samantha in tow.

Harvey stops Samantha, his expression growing softer. If it wasn't for her, he can't imagine how things would have played out, but her lips wind into a smirk before he can think of what to say.

"Your office will do just fine, pretty boy."

She winks, and he knows she's kidding, but he'd give it to her either way, his stomach fluttering when Donna pulls away to wrap her arms around Louis. He catches the man's gaze with a nod, his hand back at Donna's waist like a flash when the man releases her.

She wipes her eyes as the three of them exit the apartment, overwhelmed by exhaustion, and when Harvey turns her around, she tries to force a smile, but he sees straight through it.

"Come here."

He draws her to a hug and she fully embraces him this time, her fingers feeling their way up to the nape of his neck and pulling him in closer. She can only imagine what he's been through, being questioned and repeatedly accused of something he didn't do. It prompts her to push a small amount of space between them, her concern bubbling to the surface. "What happened?"

It wasn't a picnic, that's for damn sure. He'd been gruelled, raked over hot coals and pushed to the edge of his limits. They'd played the recording of her over and over trying to get him to break, but the thought of getting home to her guided him through the worst of it.

"Nothing," he lies smoothly, wanting to protect her from the truth. "They asked a bunch of questions, that was it."

She swallows, her gaze trailing from his busted lip down to the bruises marring his wrists. They're worse now, scratched and bloodied, and she knows he's hiding the brunt of the ordeal. It had obviously been brutal, but instead of pushing him, she takes hold of his hand, leading him through the living area to her bathroom.

When she lets go, he feels suddenly empty, and wants to insist the med-kit she brings out isn't necessary, but she shoots the protest down with a warning look.

Her fingers close around a tube of antiseptic cream, and she uncaps the ointment, wishing she didn't have to cause him any more pain, but she doesn't want the raw skin getting infected, especially knowing she's the cause. Anyone else would have given up trying to free themselves but not him. He'd have fought to the death if it meant keeping her safe, and the thought is more terrifying than it is comforting.

He winces when she rubs the cold lotion into his skin but forces himself not to flinch away, trying to meet her gaze, but she keeps her eyes cast down, and he sighs. "Donna, this wasn't your fault."

She breathes in sharply, still refusing to look up at him. "I left you there."

Her voice is quiet, filled with regret, and his own is in no way malicious, but he is curious. "Why did you?"

She moves to his other wrist, circling her thumb over it with the same motion. "Landon said he had information he couldn't tell me at the station. I thought it was the only way to help you."

Her words waver, lodging in his chest, and he feels his own guilt swim to the surface. He should have realized it would have only been to protect him, or try to at least, and he takes the tube from her grasp, placing it down and cupping her hands. "You couldn't have known what he was going to do."

"I _should_ have," she argues, angry at herself for ignoring her instincts. She isn't a lawyer, she didn't go to Harvard or get a fancy degree, but the thing she's always fallen back on is the ability to read and know what people are thinking. If that fails, she has nothing, and she slips her fingers out of his grasp. "I didn't see it with Landon, just like I missed it with Stephen, and look what happened."

He tenses at her tone, having never seen her question herself like this before. Albeit, she rarely has a reason too, but that makes him even more determined to squash her doubt. She can be right ninety-nine percent of the time but she's still human, and he breaks the promise he made to keep what happened during his interrogation to himself. "They played the video Harris made."

The comment snaps her attention to him, the air in her lungs heavy as she finally meets his gaze. But it isn't filled with pain like she expects. Instead, there's a gentle softness to his expression.

"It was hell," he admits, his eyes never leaving hers, "and not because of what you were saying, but because I knew it was killing you to do it." He doesn't mince his words, needing to get his point across. "I asked you to, because the only thing I wanted was to keep you safe, and that's all you were doing when you left with Harris."

She nods slightly, but he isn't finished, and steps closer, placing his palms over her shoulders this time. "You told me not to blame myself after what happened with Catalina, and this is the same thing. We're not responsible for other people's actions."

She blinks, wondering when he became so able to know the right thing to say. Only a short time ago he couldn't even admit to his feelings, and now he's giving the same advice she'd told him, meaning she can't refute it. "You're getting too good at this."

"I'm learning from the best," he smiles, reaching his hand up to push the hair back from her face, wincing at the marks that have now darkened around her neck. He has his own regret to work through, emotions that aren't merely going to go away because they weren't in control of the situation, but they're in this together and that's how they need to deal with it; as a team. "Why don't we try to put all this out of our minds for tonight, get some rest?"

It's what she wants more than anything, to curl up beside him and forget the past week ever happened and when he sinks his palm back into hers, she lets him lead her to the bedroom, the silence nowhere near as daunting as it had been.

They get changed, her into a pair of pyjamas while he strips down to his boxers but he's never more than a few feet away, and when they crawl beneath the covers, his arms automatically winding around her, it feels more like coming home than returning to her apartment did. "Harvey?"

"Hmmm," he breathes out slowly, his eyelids already starting to flutter under the weight of complete exhaustion, but he manages to keep them open.

"I missed you." It's been less than twenty-four hours since they woke up tangled together but it seems like a lifetime has passed, and she knows he feels it as well when his grip tightens.

"I missed you too," he murmurs, half tempted to keep them here and let the rest of the world be damned, but things will go back to normal, they always do, and this is the first time he isn't afraid to face what the rest of his life is going to look like.

So long as Donna's by his side, he knows that's the only thing he's ever going to need.

* * *

**AN:** _Thank you so much for all the reviews, support and to everyone who has been following this story! I'm leaving it here for now but there may be an epilogue added at a later stage :) I've been working on another multi-chapter fic in the background which will hopefully be making its debut soon :P_

_And a shout out to the talent and amazingness of the Darvey fandom! Eight months since the last episode aired (ish, I'm bad at math) and I'm still being blessed with new fic/art/gifs/vids every day. You guys make me so happy :D_


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